Beyond?

by Andur

  The orb arches away, but the command centre slows and comes to a creeping halt to block the attack. I watch the coils increasing their speed and after the orb of light vanished in mid air Quinn starts moving once again, circling counter-clockwise around our fortress while keeping a respectful distance to us.

  In the meanwhile the nomads don't give chase and seem to be happy with mopping up the forces which couldn't keep up with Quinn's retreat. A few vehicles, which got damaged during the exchange, were left behind.

  Chuck shakes his totem at Quinn's forces. “Ha! They got their asses kicked! Too bad that the nomads' artillery seems to be very limited. If they could shoot faster, they could hold Quinn down while they are giving chase.”

  The casualty estimation by my drone tells me otherwise. “Quinn's troops still sold themselves very well. They lost about two hundred of their smaller vehicles, which accounts to a thousand soldiers. Their heavy equipment is mostly untouched. If my drone is right, then the nomads paid with ten thousand of their riders to achieve that.”

  Lucas points at the nomad forces. “You shouldn't trust the initial numbers of your drone too much. The nomads are capable of potent healing magic. If they are given enough time, they can heal their wounded and return them to full efficiency.”

  I order the net to recalculate the numbers. “Depending on how fast their healers are, they can restore between seven to nine thousand of their soldiers. A thousand are dead for sure.”

  He is right that we have to take healing magic into account. The problem with a gun is that it only wounds the enemy in most cases, meaning that the immediate mortality rate for a gunfight is very low. Normally the wounded of a fight suffer for hours until they finally succumb to their wounds. Only very few people are actually lucky, or unfortunate enough to be killed outright.

  Helen nods slowly. “If you are looking at it like that then both parties came out equally in the encounter, though the nomads have greater numbers. They can repeat this type of encounter until Quinn is done for. The nomads even have reinforcements and supplies. Is there any way to know how much of their ammunition Quinn used to achieve this? From what I heard that's a limiting factor to their weapons?”

  The Great Shaman shrugs his shoulders. “That's really hard to tell. It depends on how many of their vehicles are carrying supplies, but judging from their behaviour they have to be careful.

  They didn't waste any shots on the nomads' barrier and used only one cannon to test if it's still active. When they confirmed that it's down, they fired. You don't act like that if you have shells to waste. Our enemies in the north know how to cast a similar barrier, but we simply keep shooting until it breaks.”

  Helen growls as the nomads orient their formation with a new target in mind. “Now they want to try us. I wonder what swayed their minds?”

  Lucas answers with an unhappy expression. “Probably they decided that they can take Quinn with enough time. Now they want to know how much of a threat we are.” He gestures for one one of the soldiers who are waiting for instructions. “Deploy our forces.”

  Stella turns at my side to look anxiously at her father. “Are you really sure? We could use long range attacks. There is no need to put our people at risk.”

  Lucas looks at us and smiles. “I know that, but there are many good people living on the border to the eastern plains. I want the nomads to know that the Free City States aren't only good at hiding behind walls. And I want to show Quinn that our swords and armour aren't as bad as they think. After all there is magic involved.”

  Our fortress spits out its troops while the nomads start advancing towards us. Of course they try to use their white orb once again, but it gets interrupted by a set of small blue sparks. The sparks originated from our army and caused the white orb to detonate early. A bombastic explosion lights the sky, but doesn't cause any harm.

  Our troops form ten squares with a thousand men each. All of them are foot soldiers. On the outside of the formation are two rows of people with big man-sized shields and swords, while the third, fourth and fifth line is held by spear men. Behind them are several rows of bowmen with robed figures in the centre. Those are the magicians who form the centre of Nict's battle tactic.

  The nomads close in on our slowly advancing troops, but our soldiers march forward unperturbed. I realize that I never saw our soldiers fight until now. Growing up in a time of peace is a blessing. Though I heard that my grandmother and my parents fought in several encounters with the southern nations.

  Fireballs start rising from the charging nomad forces. Since they aren't inside Quinn's interrupt field, both sides can use magic.

  The fireballs hit barriers right in front of our formations and cause explosions without doing harm. When the charging wave of riders enters a distance of one hundred metres our formations stop their advance.

  The shield bearers plant their tower shields firmly into the ground, even folding out an assisting stake of metal to help holding the shield in a firm position.

  The archers start firing their bows, but instead of shooting salvoes of arrows like I expected, they take careful aim at certain targets. Upon closer inspection I notice that one of the magicians is pointing the targets out.

  Then the nomads' onslaught rams into our formation, but our strengthened soldiers hold the line with ease. When someone gets wounded he is immediately replaced by a comrade and retreats to the centre of the formation to get healed.

  I notice that the archers seem to be directed to focus their attacks onto the enemy magicians, who are hiding within the ocean of riders. The fight turns into close combat between our shield bearers and the dismounted nomad troops who were flung from their nightmares. Other nomads also get off of their nightmares to assist their comrades.

  The biggest problem for our troops seem to be the nightmares which lost their riders and simply throw themselves into our formation by jumping over the first line of defence.

  Suddenly an entire wing of nomad troops simply collapses. A few of them wail on the ground, but it takes only seconds until they lie still. Five hundred warriors who seemed fine a moment ago dropped to the ground.

  The Great Shaman nods in admiration. “The nomads lost the last magician who protected that area. Was it a mind spell?”

  Lucas shakes his head. “The Tinn like to use that spell when they can work together with others. It requires a little preparation and the assistance of five other magicians. It's a group spell which decreases the air pressure within an area drastically. They force the air out of the target's lungs, it's a neat trick to bypass someone's natural defence.”

  Chuck scratches his cheek with the totem. “So they suffocated? That's a nasty death. And attacking the air within someone's lungs is also a neat trick. I like the Tinn, they are sneaky bastards.”

  As he ends his comment a second wing of riders explodes into a single huge bonfire. Probably that was the work of an Anja.

  The process repeats itself a third and a fourth time. Our troops take their share of damage when the nomads start using their incinerate devices, but the flames are quickly put out by magic.

  This time I get a better view on what they are using. Each Nightmare is carrying a big jar on a wick. When the rider pulls the jar free, he ignites the wick and can hurl it with both hands at his enemies. The jar breaks upon impact and spills a highly flammable liquid.

  The fight continues and our outermost left formation gets into serious trouble when one of the fireball spells penetrates the barrier and explodes within the centre of the formation. The explosion takes out several wizards, but luckily the crucial ones who are defending the soldiers against enemy magic manage to keep doing their jobs. The magicians from the neighbouring formation drop a part of their defence and start casting long range attack spells on the nomads to assist their comrades.

  After a few seemingly endless minutes the nomads decide that they have seen enough, they turn and run as one.

  I straighten myself to get rid of the tension. “Th
at looked like a well trained performance.”

  Helen smiles and explains the circumstances. “While they may be the capital's reserve forces, they are still one of our best trained units. I guess you sent them out there to give them battle experience, Lucas?”

  Her husband nods. “They may be well trained, but the last time we needed them was long ago. There is nothing better than gaining real experience. Though they could've done better. I'll tell their general that the next time they can deploy their shields earlier. Southern, speed enhanced troops could have used their late deployment to charge into them before they are ready.”

  Our troops turn around like a well oiled machine and march back to our fortress. They leave behind ten almost perfectly clean squares, surrounded by dead bodies. I check the estimation of my drone. “Between one hundred and two hundred casualties on our side. The nomads lost somewhere between three and four thousand warriors.”

  Lucas nods. “Calling them warriors fits. They obviously aren't trained soldiers.”

  “Though I don't understand why they decided to retreat? For a moment it looked like they'll manage to break our left flank when their spell got through.” Stella asks warily at my side.

  The Great Shaman tries to explain the situation. “The nomads seem to rely only on using their nightmares to charge into their enemies. Mounted troops have an advantage when it comes to impact damage. If they manage to break the enemy formation, they have it easy and can give chase to fleeing enemies, riding them down.

  But nightmares aren't dumb animals. You can force them to ride into an enemy formation, but once the charge is broken it's hard to get them to advance properly. If your charge is broken you can only try to retreat and try to charge a second time.

  When your troops stopped the enemy charge successfully they had the upper hand. All they had to do was to defend since the nomads had to dismount in order to continue their attack. Only a few crazed nightmares still decided to attack.

  Since your troops are optimized foot soldiers, the nomads were just a rampaging mob to them once they dismounted.”

  We watch the nomad forces retreating to their previous position, many of them throwing angry glares in our direction.

  I notice that Quinn's force decided to come a little closer to watch the exchange. “Do you think that our little show impressed Quinn?”

  Helen snorts and gestures at the ten clean squares with dead bodies around them. “I hope so?”

  Our conversation stops when a group of riders separates from the nomad troops and rides to a spot which is roughly between their army, Quinn's forces and our fortress.

  “I wonder what's going on in their minds now? Are they going to attack with twenty people?” Xander frowns while he asks the question which is on everyone's mind.

  I blink and order the drone to zoom in the camera. “I think they are building something like a fireplace and a protection against the sun?”

  Lucas pulls an old fashioned telescope from his pocket and deploys it by pulling on both ends. Then he takes a look at the situation. Seriously, he could've simply linked into the mana net and accessed my drone.

  Helen shrugs her shoulders. “An invitation for tea?”

  71. ~Tradition.~

  “One shall never ignore the tradition of our ancestors. The rules which were laid down by the ones before us. What results from ignoring the order of things? Chaos and the loss of moral values.”

  -Old Nomad.

  Eastern Plains

  Azir

  We cautiously ride closer to the small nomad camp. After weighting our different opinions on the situation, we found it to be the most likely answer that the nomads are inviting us to talk. So everyone decided to take a look at the situation.

  I attempted to convince Stella that it would be best if she stayed behind, but she wasn't willing to. Since I was really interested in the nomads, I fought down my tiredness and doubts about taking Stella with me. If anything happens I'll simply take her and teleport us away.

  So it turned out that we mustered a few guards to accompany us, which increased our group of six to twenty people. The Great Shaman also decided to join the fray since he didn't want to be left out. He and his aides plus guards increase our party to forty people, which is twice as much as the nomads sent. I hope that coming with so many people won't represent us in a bad light.

  Everyone else is riding a nightmare, while I got my good old warcat for that purpose. Ghost is a good riding opportunity and I never had a thing for the nightmares since they gave me a trauma as a little child.

  My brain must have shorted out that day when I tried to run away. I honestly can't remember why I made that decision. Maybe my mind was still a little clouded by the recent summoning.

  Now that we are coming closer I can make out finer details. The nomads created a nice little camp in a flat part of the grassy plains around us. There is a big open tent as cover against the sun and a fireplace. The cloth of the tent looks like it is put together from random pieces of clothing, but the used material seems expensive. Probably the wardrobes of the nomad's victims.

  Leon and Giana also decided to take the invitation, so they came in their usual transporter. Our three groups are eyeing each other from a distance while we wait for someone to make the first move. The nomads finally decide to act by putting a wooden stool in front of their fireplace. One of the nomads sits down on the wooden stool. Two more empty stools are also placed around the fire, which makes it hard to misinterpret the Nomad's intention.

  The Great Shaman wrinkles his nose while he watches them. “They forgot about me!”

  One of his aides tries to help out, he approaches the Great Shaman and bends down to him. “They most likely don't even know that we are here.”

  Chuck pushes his face away. “That's no reason to forget about preparing yourself for surprise guests.”

  So we slowly approach the nomad camp and dismount. The transporter from Quinn stops only a few metres away to let Leon and Giana step outside. A set of guards accompanies them and fans out around the vehicle.

  The nomads are strangely silent, but Helen decides to take one of the offered seats anyway. She acts like there isn't anything to be feared by stepping so close to your enemy. I guess the utter lack of survival instinct is one of the key features a great leader needs to have.

  Leon takes the other empty seat. He traded his fancy colourful clothings for a still very colourful, military design. At least there are no frills or other bells and whistles which could hinder his movement. There is a nasty bump on his forehead. I guess he saw a little personal action during the encounter with the nomads?

  Giana is still wearing her neat sparkling dress, which distracts the eyes of quite a few men because of the tight and revealing nature of her outfit.

  Chuck doesn't seem to be bothered by the tense atmosphere and walks up to the triangle with his arms folded in front of his chest. He stands at Helen's side for several moments until one of the nomads decides that it could be better to simply give him a stool.

  The nomad who is leading the negotiations is in the prime of his time. He is in his thirties, but the long braided hair and the weather aged skin are making it hard to say for sure. One of his horns is broken a few centimetres above his head, while the other fans out and twirls like a sick dead tree above his head. His face as well as his body is scarred and strict with a very distinct bony structure.

  He is wearing a loincloth with a big leather belt and leather trousers. His boots are made out of fur and he has a medium sized dagger at his side.

  The musculature which is revealed by his trained, naked upper body looks strange to me. I can't put my finger on it, maybe there are a few packs of muscles too much? And the bones emerge a little too high from his rips and collarbones? His disfigurements are all within the accepted norm, but all of them together draw a strange picture for me. The most important point are his eyes, which aren't the normal slits, but have a second horizontal gash, turning them into star-like
crosses.

  I bend down to whisper into Stella's ear. “Is he one of those who got exposed to a bit too much mana?”

  Stella nods. “He must be. No way to tell how old he is, but the muscles and sinews are all wrong. Especially the eyes. That's outside of every possible normal disfigurement.”

  The nomad decides to break the silence. “Now let's talk about your violation of our sacred land.”

  Leon snorts. “Why should we respect the home of someone who doesn't respect ours?”

  The nomad smirks at Leon and nods at the transporter. “People who disrespect their land and create such abominations aren't worth to be respected. They are nothing but prey for those who live with the land.”

  The Great Shaman nods. “So you have a problem with us being here. That's okay. Let us finish our talks and we will retreat. There won't be a problem. Further death's aren't necessary.”

  “Don't speak like that to the chief little man! Show respect!” One of the rougher looking nomads shouts from behind their chief.

  Chuck's expression turns grave and he looks up to Helen. “Did they just call 'The Great Shaman' … a … 'little man'?”

  Helen's lips turn thin and white. “I think so?”

  Chuck glares at the chief. “How do you intend to pay for this insult?”

  The chief shrugs his shoulders, amusement in his eyes. “Not at all. In our culture everyone has to earn respect for himself. Nobody will interfere with a personal problem between a warrior and a... 'Great Shaman'.”

  Chuck sucks in air and starts mumbling something incomprehensible while he is getting up from his stool. He approaches the man who called him a 'little man' while shaking his totem at him.

  The guy in question isn't intimidated at all by the dwarf in front of him. I guess in his eyes Chuck looks like a small maniac who is throwing a tantrum.

  When Chuck reaches the man he stops his nonsensical murmuring. “I'll show you what happens in Dwem if you insult the Great Shaman!”