Veegal's Wall

by Adam McCullough

  Chapter 19

  Eertu and Anja stood side by side studying the army amassed just outside archery range. No siege engines either transported in or under construction, indicated the enemy would indeed proceed with a magical assault. ‘No surprise there’ Eertu thought to himself. It was exactly what he and Anja had been preparing for.

  A hundred things could go wrong. Had they mixed the right concoction to withstand the mental assault, were he and Anja strong enough to counter the magic soon to be brought against them? He could spend hours running what ifs through his mind.

  “Calm your mind,” Anja counseled as if reading his thoughts. “We will need to be extremely focused and in sync.”

  Eertu took half a dozen deep breaths and pushed all unnecessary thoughts out of mind. The aura of magic had been thickening over the past half hour causing a sensation of being engulfed by an overpowering presence. To an ordinary individual the change was unnoticeable, but to those attuned to magic it was like a thick fog rolling in. He felt it, Anja felt it, and unless he was mistaken so did Dredrik. The man had become uncharacteristically fidgety since the sensations had first assaulted Eertu’s own senses.

  “Dredrik feels the Aura,” Eertu whispered to Anja. “He has never shown any sign of magical abilities before.”

  “He is awakening to his true self. Far too late to be of use in the coming battle, but if we yet live when this is over I shall have to guide him as best I can.”

  “What is he?”

  “Later, now focus they are beginning.”

  Eertu pushed his curiosity aside as a familiar chanting began to emanate from just beyond the trenches. The low murmur began building in both volume and enthusiasm causing unease to spread throughout the defenders. The clear moonlight sky began to be cast in a sickly green hue as the chant reached its apex.

  As one Anja and Eertu began incantations of their own, hands and arms moving in intricate patterns, eyes aglow as summoned magical powers took hold of their bodies. A basso rumble took hold overpowering all other sounds a streaks of light began falling toward the Fortress.

  . . . . .

  Dredrik watched with a sense of dread as the sky began to fall. Memories of the destruction he had witnessed firsthand still fresh on his mind. This was one of two hurdles they would have to survive if they hoped to defend the wall for any time at all. The second, mind alterations causing soldiers to fall upon each other in a rage fueled free for all. If the second was successful they would simply not notice any change.

  Hundreds of flaming balls seemed to grow as they barreled down upon the fortress, their brightness causing him to squint. Heat washed over him giving promise to the destruction to come. Just as it seemed impact was imminent the projectiles veered sharply slamming into the enemy lines.

  . . . . .

  Mareth watched impassively as Merca used the whole of the legion to call down death upon the fortress. So far events unfolded just as he had seen in every campaign with the Lord General, until now. The first ball of fiery death impacted a mere fifty feet from where he stood with earth shattering force. Men closer to the impact caught fire even as the blast threw them through the air. Mareth himself was thrown to the ground by the shockwave.

  Seeing the gruesome death of their comrades the front ranks began to flee but it was to no avail. Death rained down indiscriminately upon the legion as dozens at a time would be incinerated without even time to scream.

  Mareth spied the sorcerer still casting from a trancelike state unaware of the destruction being wrought around him. How Merca has not yet fell victim to his own magic was beyond him, but Mareth quickly realized it was up him to act. With great urgency he broke out into a sprint, his armored bulk being nearly toppled many times by close impacts. Grabbing the front of Merca’s robes he threw the sorcerer hard to ground. The man’s eyes widened as he snapped back into reality and realized what was happening.

  “Fool!” Mareth howled. “You nearly killed us all.”

  “It’s the warlock you failed to kill. He is countering my powers,” Merca growled as he picked himself up off the ground. “I told you he would be trouble.”

  “Merca,” A deep voice bellowed. The Lord General marched angrily toward Merca, deadly intent in his eyes. His stature easily a match for Mareth, but where Mareth wore solid black plate armor with silver glyphs the Lord General donned chain link armor with gleaming plate shoulders and shin guards. “Tell me why I should not take your head now!”

  “Milord, the enemy has powerful casters of their own. They turned the spell upon us. Reports say there is only two or three. All we have to do is keep up the pressure, cause them to use up their strength. With the nearly one hundred magic wielders in the legions we should be able to wear them down. It will just take some time.”

  “We cannot get close enough to assault them, to force them to use up their powers. The shamans have already reported that the confusion spells have failed. We launched this campaign on the promises that your magic was good enough to overcome all obstacles. Was my trust misplaced?

  “No Milord,” Merca said. As I said it will just take a bit more time.”

  “Mareth, what is your opinion?”

  “Conventional assault, bring the siege weapons up and unpack them. Use the slaves and prisoners to fill in the trenches and remove obstacles. There is a good change the defenders won’t have it in them to bring weapons to bear on their own. Also advance sappers through the trenches using mages to protect them from arrows. They can be carried on platforms so that they can keep up their defensive spells as a raiding party advances. They do not have defenders guarding the gates on the outside, we might get lucky and destroy the gate.”

  “Proceed,” the Lord General ordered after some consideration. “I would rather not execute a long drawn out siege.

  . . . . .

  “Movement near the outer trench,” Wikkid called out. His keen dwarven eyes well suited for the dark “looks like they have sent in work crews to start filling in the trenches.”

  “Not much we can do,” Hadrenn said. “That is far beyond archery range.”

  “Not necessarily,” Eertu added. “Anja and I can help the arrows along within reason. Not fortress wide, but a select group of archers”

  “Civilians,” Dredrik observed, “using them to do the work keeping their own out of harm’s way.”

  Captain Barnes sighed “Betting we won’t strike against our own people.”

  “That line represents what we estimate is just out of siege engine range,” Dredrik stated flatly. “We don’t have a choice. They fill that trench they can move in and pick us apart from range.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Eitreen argued. “Those are innocent people.”

  “I’m sorry but our hands are forced. We do nothing we lose the fortress, we strike the blood of innocents is on our hands.”

  “That’s cold,” Eitreen protested.

  “It is,” Dredrik agreed.

  “Movement up the middle, a few hundred picking their way through the pathways,” Wikkid warned. “A fair bet they have a plan for taking down the gate.”

  “Archers make ready!” Barnes ordered. “Standard bolts and arrows!”

  Almost as one the archers, mostly refugees, within range readied their weapons eager for a chance at revenge. “Hold,” Barnes barked steadying the troops as he waited for the enemy troop to slip into a better field of fire.

  “This should be easy, they’re all bunched together.” Hadrenn said.

  “They’ve not done anything stupidly so far,” Wikkid scoffed. “There must be a reason for it.”

  “Lose!”

  Hundreds of arrows and bolts sprang forth only to have the air above the attackers flare and crackle as projectiles bounced harmlessly away. “Mages,” Hadrenn muttered.

  Eertu and Anja began pouring bolts of destructive energy into the magical barrier adding to the archery assault in an attempt to drain the mages energies but the troop was approaching the gate quic
kly and the barriers showing no sign of weakening. Dredrik considered ordering the switch to the enchanted arrows but the number of those projectiles preciously few.

  “Come Hadrenn, let us meet them outside the gates,” Wikkid said as he unslung his deadly axe.

  Hadrenn smiled grimly falling in step after Wikkid joined by Vessa, Kathrin, Erica and Lesley. Nichole remained at the battlements by Dredrik’s side launching arrows into the oncoming assault team and to transmit orders to Lesley if the need arose.

  The party disappeared down the steps leading to the main gate calling for more men at arms to join them as they went. Meanwhile defenders continued to harass the incoming soldiers from above.

  . . . . .

  The assaulting force was close now maybe a hundred yards from the wall armed with axe, sword, and spear. Three mages rode upon platforms carried by slaves allowing them to stand stationary and cast their defensive spells as the troop moved. There was no sign of battering ram but many carried torches. It appeared that they intended to either burn the gates down or use magic to blast them open. Projectiles and magical bolts continued to rain down ineffectively upon them.

  With a primal roar Wikkid led the charge with nearly a hundred army regulars and militia in tow. All indications were the barriers protected from all angles leaving Wikkid clueless as to what would happen when the defenders smashed into the enemy lines but they were about to find out. A few of the defenders fired bolts and arrows as they charged to the same effect as the projectiles from above.

  The two forces were only a dozen strides from each other now. Wikkid made a quick hand gesture and the defenders spread out with the intent of hitting the barrier from as many points as possible. The barrage from the wall came to a halt to avoid friendly fire as two sides crashed. Much to Wikkid’s surprise he passed right through burying his axe into the torso of the first man he met then the next falling into a berserker state felling enemies left and right.

  Realizing their barrier had been breached the mages changed tactics focusing now on the offensive hurtling fiery death into the defenders. The once focused assault began to falter under the three mages’ combined onslaught.

  Sensing an impending route Vessa turned her attention toward the mages. With both Wikkid and Hadrenn unable to disengage from the bulk of the fighting she signaled her fellow assassins to engage the mages.

  Kathrin struck first having saved her crossbow for an emergency. Her bolt struck the closest mage through the eye socket. With a shriek the man collapsed writhing in an expanding pool of his own blood. One down two to go.

  Vessa slipped behind a second mage cutting a bloody swath as she went until she had a clear path to her target. With the mage distracted with another target Vessa had no trouble jumping on his back driving her dagger repeatedly into the man silencing yet another threat.

  The final mage realizing his peril turned his attentions toward the assassins. He could feel his powers draining but he would take a few more with him before he was spent, but first that damnable gate. Summoning his most powerful spell he unleashed his full fury against the objective they had been set against. They would have their victory.

  Kathrin seeing the final mages intent fought hard to reach the man before he unleashed his spell. It was Erica’s target but she had become overwhelmed barely able to keep herself standing let alone eliminate her target. The press of bodies around the mage made it impossible to get close enough to kill leaving Kathrin with only one option to protect the gate. As the mage released his spell Kathrin leapt taking full force the blast meant to disintegrate the great gates of Veegal’s Wall. She simply ceased to exist.

  The mage howled in fury having the last of his full strength wasted on something as frail as a human body. With that last blast any hope of taking the gate was spent. Lost in that thought he never saw the claymore wielded by Hadrenn until the blade had already passed through his neck.

  With all their mages dead the enemy soldiers began a hasty retreat back through the narrow pathways through the trenches and barricades. They did not make it far however as projectiles from the wall massacred the now unprotected troops. Day one belonged to the defenders.

  . . . . .

  Mareth watched the disaster unfold in the company of both Merca and Lord General Kuzzak. He could feel the rage radiating from the Lord General as his shock troopers fled. Dying with enemy arrows in the back was probably far more merciful than facing down their masters wrath Mareth mused. The maneuver had almost worked, if only more troops had been committed, then again nobody had expected a counter attack outside the protection of the fortress. Unfortunately there was no chance for a repeat attempt. All mages in the Lord General’s employ capable of generating a defensive barrier for any length of time now lie dead.

  After several more minutes of silent brooding the Lord General spoke. “Have the engineers begin unpacking our trebuchets, ladders and rams. After the slaves have cleared enough of the trench work we’ll pick them apart from range.”

  On cue a loud commotion broke out as an isolated burst of gale force wind swept through the ranks followed by screams along the trench lines where the prisoners and slaves labored. Immediately cries of ‘Retreat!’ sounded as slave and soldier alike ran for their lives as projectiles rained down around them.

  “Captain, send for Mistress Briana. So far the arcane has failed us. Perhaps it is time we looked toward the elemental for an edge.

  “Sir,” a muscular bearded man attired similarly as the Lord General answered. “and the siege weapons?”

  “As previously ordered, I am not going to underestimate our opponents again. I want all options available.”