“They’re holding position,” Sir Roger said. “Why?”
Emily glanced at the dull red sun. It was sinking beneath the distant mountains, throwing the land into shadow. The orcs would be practically invisible in the darkness, at least until sorcerers started casting lightspells. Or night vision spells. The orcs couldn’t hide for long, if at all. And the necromancers had to know it. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind. There was a necromancer in the distance, standing in the rear. It had to be Gerombolan. Rangka was still in his castle.
And he must think he has an ace up his sleeve, she mused, as the shadows grew and lengthened. What does he have in mind?
“We could shell them,” Crown Prince Dater said. His normal bombast was gone. Four of his men had been run down by the orcs and torn to pieces. “Even if the guns aren’t very accurate, we could hit them...”
“Give them time to deploy,” Sir Roger said. “We can’t afford to waste shells.”
Emily nodded, studying the enemy position. It looked as though they were getting organized. Hooded overseers moved from group to group, handing out shields as they pushed and shoved the orcs into position. She had the nasty feeling they’d really learnt something from the last battle. It wasn’t going to be a single, mass charge... she felt her heart sink as the enemy force started to glide forward, splitting into smaller formations. There was no hope - now - of killing hundreds of orcs in a single volley. They were going to burn up a lot of powder in the next few minutes.
“Archers, loose,” Sir Roger snapped.
The archers fired as one. Emily flinched at the sound, then swore as the orcs raised their shields to cover themselves. That was good thinking on their part; she’d never seen them use shields before, even when it would have saved hundreds of lives. It was a grim reminder that necromancers simply didn’t care enough to protect the orcs... cursing echoed up and down the line as the arrows hit their targets and shattered. A number hit orcish flesh, or shattered the shields as they struck the metal, but the vast majority were useless. The orcs kept coming, howling as they picked up speed.
“Heavy shields,” Crown Prince Dater commented. “Very heavy shields.”
“Clever of them,” Sir Roger agreed, a nasty edge to his voice. “Archers, fire by squads.”
Emily gritted her teeth as the orcs continued to advance. The archers took a toll, but nowhere near enough to stop the enemy force. Sir Roger turned to the gunpowder weapons, ordering them to open fire. The cannonballs tore through the enemy forces, but too many missed. The musketmen weren’t even that accurate. Emily heard shouting as unit commanders directed their men to choose their targets. She heard the frustration in their voices. Too many shots were being completely wasted.
“We may need something a little more drastic,” Sir Roger said. He glanced at Master Lucknow. “Order the sorcerers to ready themselves.”
Emily nodded as the orcs plunged into the kill zones. They’d been designed to funnel intruders into lines, but the orcs were just too spread out to make them effective. She swore as the orcs got closer, some hurling rocks towards the walls. She hastily raised a ward as a stone slammed into an archer’s head, sending him tumbling back down to the ground. A healer ran forward, but it was already too late. The orcs didn’t need slingshots or portable catapults to do real damage.
She sensed a surge of magic from the distant overseers, followed by a hail of rocks flying towards the fortress. She cringed as a rock smashed too close to the walls for comfort. The enemy spellcasters weren’t any more accurate than the cannoneers, but they were bound to hit something if they kept hurling rocks into a relatively confined space. Another rock hit a tent, thankfully empty. The walls vibrated ominously as more and more crashed down. It was only a matter of time until they hit something vital.
“Put up a shield,” Sir Roger snapped. “Or deflect the rocks!”
Master Lucknow shoved a battery and a valve into Emily’s hands. “Use that,” he shouted, as the howling grew louder. “I’ll set up the shield!”
Emily nodded, testing the valve as she linked it to the battery. A modified fire spell, rewritten to channel more power than any magician - save perhaps for a necromancer - could produce for a single spell. She sucked in her breath, feeling vulnerable as more and more rocks and stones flashed past. Behind her, something exploded. She didn’t dare turn to look as she raised the valve, bracing herself. Master Lucknow needed time to raise a shield, time she had to give him...
She triggered the battery. The valve grew warm against her skin - for an awful moment, she thought the spellwork had failed - before a wave of flame washed out of the valve and cascaded across the advancing army. Sweat beading on her forehead, her fingers and arms vibrated oddly as she tried to steer the flame from orc to orc. The creatures became burning torches, catching fire and scattering. She realized, too late, that some of them might just keep coming, trying to set fire to the walls before they died. If they managed to get into the gunpowder, the resulting explosion would do immense damage.
The battery continued to vibrate as she channeled the power. The flames took on an eerie light... balefire, not real fire. She could hear something calling, drawing her on even though she knew the battery was running out of magic. The valve vibrated, growing hotter and hotter until she felt her skin start to burn. She screamed - the pain was so intense she nearly fainted - and threw it away as hard as she could. It exploded, releasing a flash of blinding white light. She tumbled back...
Lady Barb caught her arm and yanked her back. “Emily?”
Emily collapsed onto the makeshift wall, almost as if her legs had turned to jelly. Her hands hurt... she tried to concentrate on a healing charm, something that would make the pain go away if nothing else, but it refused to work. Her eyes hurt... it was as if the world had suddenly gone dim. It had been getting darker, but... the flames had been so bright they’d destroyed her night vision. She closed her eyes, trying to squeeze out a few tears. The world really did feel dim.
“I’m okay,” she managed. She didn’t want to show weakness, not now. Lady Barb and the other magicians would understand, but the soldiers would not. “I’m okay.”
Lady Barb’s fingers brushed against Emily’s hands. “Has that ever happened before?”
Emily shook her head. “I must have underestimated the battery’s charge,” she said. She’d thought that was impossible. “Or the spellwork just wasn’t good enough.”
“We can fix the problem, next time,” Lady Barb said. The guns boomed, hurling mortar shells towards the distant necromancer. “You take a deep breath or two.”
Emily said nothing as flashes of light rent the air. Waves of magic washed over her... she shivered as she realized Master Lucknow had managed to get his magicians to cast a powerful shield. The enemy wouldn’t be able to hit them with rocks any longer... at the price of keeping the magicians distracted, concentrating on the shield. The necromancer didn’t know about the batteries - she smiled as she staggered to her feet - but it didn’t matter. There was only a limited supply. Once they were gone, they were gone.
She spotted Master Lucknow, standing in the middle of the ritual circle. The other magicians were chanting loudly as they guided their power into the ritual. Emily shivered at the raw magic flowing through the air, trying not to notice how many people looked away and pretended the magicians weren’t there. They’d be exhausted, when the spell was finally done. They’d be in no state to fight or defend themselves or do anything.
And that’s what the necromancer wants, Emily thought, numbly. He wants them to exhaust themselves - or to burn themselves out - before he takes the field himself.
Another flash of magic darted through the air as a rock hit the shield. It probably wouldn’t wear the shield down, not unless the rocks were thrown a lot harder, but it would remind the magicians they had to keep the shield in place. She cursed under her breath as she realized the implications. Stopping objects was a lot harder than stopping spells. It took much
more power. Master Lucknow would have to stop, sooner rather than later, and then... she didn’t know what’d happen. The shield would be down and there’d be no hope of putting it back up before it was too late.
She turned back to peer over the darkening battlefield. The ground was burning in places and smoldering in others, although there was nothing to burn... she shuddered as she realized that simply wasn’t true. The dead orcs were burning brightly, their bodies consumed by the flames. Balefire was terrifyingly persistent, if one didn’t know the right spells. It didn’t look as if the overseers gave much of a damn about their slaves. They weren’t making any attempt to put out the fires.
Lady Barb stepped up beside her. “They’re pressing the attack.”
Emily nodded. Groups of orcs were running forward, hurling smaller stones towards the wards as they advanced. They were shot down in their dozens - in their hundreds - but there were always more, gradually wearing down the defenders. She glanced at the cannoneers and shuddered. They simply didn’t have many targets. The orcs moved too quickly to be targeted and hit. And the archers were running out of arrows.
“They’ve got us pinned down,” she agreed. It felt as if the necromancer was biding his time, waiting for the right moment to take the field. He was going to be disappointed when he realized her magicians had drained themselves dry, but it didn’t matter. He’d probably be quite happy to have them all dead. “And they just have to bide their time.”
She gritted her teeth as the battle continued to rage. A couple of magicians cast lightspells, illuminating the entire battlefield with eerie white light. The soldiers seemed to find it disturbing, even though it was saving their lives. Penny directed overcharged lightspells towards the orcs, trying to blind them. Emily gave her credit for thinking outside the box, although it didn’t seem to work very well. The orcs blinked and continued the charge, pushing on and on until they were shot down. The bodies were piled high, and yet they kept coming.
Emily ached, with a bone-deep weariness that threatened to drag her down into the darkness. Her hands still hurt, even though they hadn’t really been burnt. She kept herself awake, somehow, as more and more enemy orcs plunged out of the darkness. The defenders rushed more and more supplies and ammunition through the portal, hastily reloading their weapons and quaffing bottles of water and juice before returning to the lines. Emily felt her blood run cold, remembering just how much had been stockpiled before the war had truly begun. They were burning through their supplies at terrifying speed. She thought she understood, now, why such assaults had been so feared. If the defenders ran out of ammo, they’d be slaughtered.
She rubbed her forehead as yet another wave of orcs came screaming out of the darkness and threw themselves at the walls. A cannon boomed, throwing a cannonball towards the distant overseers. Emily couldn’t tell if the ball had gone anywhere near its target. The mortars were still shooting, but they were running out of shells. A couple had even exploded, badly wounding or killing their users. Other cannons looked as if they were on the verge of exploding too, despite the protective spells woven into the metal. It was just a matter of time before they started to go up like firecrackers.
Lady Barb held out a battery and a valve. “You may need this,” she said. “The shield is starting to weaken.”
Emily glanced at the circle and nearly jumped. Several magicians had fallen out of the circle and were now lying on the ground, limp and powerless. Penny and the other trainees were helping them, as best as they could, but there was little they could do beyond shipping the magicians through the portal, back to the camp. They could rest and recuperate there, if it wasn’t too late. If they’d burned themselves out... she shuddered, feeling sick. She’d grown up without powers. The others had known they’d had magic well before they hit puberty.
And they might go mad, if they lose them, she thought.
She shuddered, torn between the urgent need for rest and an unshakable certainty that she’d never wake up if she went to sleep. Her eyes were still aching... she blinked hard, time and time again. They were dry and sore and... she glared at the drifting balls of light. Was it too much to expect the necromancers to attack in daylight? Her lips twitched. The necromancers had picked a great time to attack, for them. The troops had already been tired, after spending the last few days building the defenses. Now...
“Monsters!” Emily couldn’t tell who’d shouted, but he sounded like someone on the brink of collapse. There was no emotion in his voice, beyond a brain-numbing tiredness that tore at her soul. “Monsters!”
She turned to look. A line of creatures - so close together it was hard to see where one stopped and another began - were advancing out of the darkness. They were so close together that all she saw was a series of impressions, of tentacles and claws and bulging eyes and flashing teeth that glinted in the eerie light... and, riding on their backs, overseers and orcs. Emily shuddered as sickly yellow light flashed around the creatures, driving them on and on. The overseers peered at her, their eyes glowing. She had the feeling they were coming for her personally, that they knew who she was...
“Cannons,” Sir Roger barked. His voice was tinged with desperate anger - and hope. They might just have a chance to stop the monsters before they crashed into the walls. “Take aim!”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. The orcs had done a lot of damage - and, above her head, the shield was starting to splinter - but not enough. There were enough cannons left to tear the monsters apart, to hurl superhot cannonballs through their guts and kill them... she frowned, blinking away tiredness. Something was wrong. Either the overseers were desperate, convinced that they’d be executed if they conceded defeat and broke off the engagement or... or what? She touched the valve in her hand, reaching for the battery. She had a nasty feeling she’d need it.
“Fire,” Sir Roger barked. His voice rose in salvage exultation. “Fire!”
The cannons boomed. Emily watched the monsters stagger under the impact. They were just crammed too close together, too close to miss... she shuddered in disgust as cannonballs melted their way through flesh and bone, high-pitched keening echoing over the battlefield as the monsters died. She saw a giant caterpillar-like creature rearing up, too late to do more than howl its fury and pain to the skies before it tumbled and hit the ground. She had a brief impression of someone - or something - squashed underneath its bulk. She hoped it had been one of the overseers. They’d steered the creatures to their deaths... why? They’d thrown their lives away, for nothing...
... And then a dark figure landed on the battlements and lashed out at her with sickly yellow fire.
Chapter Thirty-Four
A DIVERSION, EMILY THOUGHT, NUMBLY. She had to force herself to jump to one side as balefire crashed against her wards. They threw those monsters at us as a diversion.
She gritted her teeth, then gathered her magic. There was no time to be subtle. The overseer was already jabbing a wand at her. She mustered a force punch and hit the creature as hard as she could. It disintegrated into bloody chunks, pieces of blood and gore flying everywhere. Emily staggered as she saw another one flying by, casting fireballs towards the ritualists... for a moment, Emily honestly doubted the evidence of her own eyes. They could fly?
Of course they can fly, she told herself, as she swatted the creature out of the air. It isn’t as if it’s a difficult spell.
She cursed as more and more overseers dropped from the skies. They were flying low, ducking under the shield and then rising so they could fire spells into the fort. Emily caught a fireball on her wards, flinching back from the wave of heat; she threw a spell back, suspecting it was already too late to cancel the flying spell. She saw an overseer land amongst the cannoneers, hitting two of them with fireballs before a third brought his firing rod down on the creature’s head. Flames licked around his body, reaching for the gunpowder. It exploded...
“Shit!” Emily ducked back as pieces of debris flew past. The entire line of cannons had exploded in a violent
chain reaction. “Get back...”
A weight landed on her back. She plunged forward and off the battlements. Hands - scaly hands - wrapped around her neck as she fell to the ground. She nearly panicked, rushing magic though her wards in a desperate bid to levitate. The creature bobbled on her back, its grip tightening. Emily lost control, unleashing a flash of raw magic. The overseer was thrown away from her, flying into the darkness. Emily hit the ground a second later, the impact knocking the breath from her body. She felt stabbing pains up and down her back as she rolled over. The creature had dug its claws into her.
“Emily!” Penny ran up to her, a fireball clutched in one hand. “Are you alright?”
“No,” Emily managed. Her back hurt too much for her to stand. “Help me up.”
Penny grabbed her shoulders and helped Emily to her feet. Blood trickled down her back, staining her shirt and running down her trousers. Her back felt numb... she realized, suddenly, that the creature’s claws might have been poisonous. Why not? They’d learnt to poison arrows. The necromancers could have copied the trick, if the overseers weren’t already poisonous.
“You’re bleeding,” Penny said. “I think it cut you.”
Emily bit her tongue to keep from saying something about pointing out the obvious. She knew she’d been cut. It wasn’t as if she could avoid feeling the blood pooling in her boots... she cursed under her breath. Even if the wound wasn’t poisoned, it could become infected very easily. There were potions to deal with infections, if she had a chance to take them. She might be in for a very unpleasant week even if she did manage to take the potions in time.
Oathkeeper (Schooled in Magic Book 20) Page 31
