Chapter 610: A Tableau of Spells
A Tableau of Spells
Morning light revealed a gruesome sight. Martel had seen plenty of corpses after battles, and much greater slaughter than this; yet somehow seeing the dead horses felt worse. Maybe because the animals had done nothing to deserve this, or because they had not stood a chance to flee. Either way, the scene made him more uncomfortable than Martel would have expected.
Seeing the reaction of the mounted cohort did not help either. Their two centuriae had already suffered great losses in the last fight; now, their beloved companions had been butchered and lay rotting in the pasture. Stoic soldiers who had witnessed their comrades being blown to pieces by cannon fire began to cry, petting the mane of their fallen steed.
Their prefect did not handle it much better. As the mages surveyed the destruction, the decurion turned his eyes from the carnage toward Avery. You should have included the pasture in the defences! You allowed this to happen! he shouted.
Sir Dominic, while I understand this is a dreadful loss, it was just not feasible. We would be far too vulnerable, extending our walls downslope
Quiet! He glared at the other prefects. Is it not enough that my soldiers must bear the brunt of every battle? Now they butcher our noble steeds, and nothing was done to prevent this!
Martel disliked the man, and he found the accusations unreasonable, but he understood his grief, and so he kept silent.
You were here, Dominic continued, staring at Eleanor and Martel. Why did you not intervene?
I am sorry, Sir Dominic, she replied with empathy in her voice. It happened very fast. By the time we moved out, they had already fallen back.
Useless, he mumbled, moving away to enter the pasture and walk among his men and their fallen companions.
The Khivans felt bold to do this, so close to our camp, Avery remarked to the remaining prefects.
They took advantage of so many of our soldiers being gone, limiting our patrols, Eleanor added.
What should we do? asked Valerius, looking from one mageknight to another.
Sir Martel, I would have you patrol at night instead of day, restricting yourself to the vicinity around the camp. Our enemy is emboldened, but I doubt they fully understand your abilities, and you may be our best asset when it comes to nocturnal safety, Sir Avery considered.
Of course.
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Other than that not much we can do, as long as we are forced to hold this position. We must wait for knowledge of the legion, whether through a message or our own eyes.
We will do our part, Eleanor promised, and they separated.
***
Martel reached out a hand to touch Eleanors shoulder, and she immediately crouched low along with him. They wore dark cloaks with cloth around their helmets, preventing moonlight from reflecting. They were less than a mile from camp, in the middle of the night. Ahead, Martel sensed four shapes whose heat shone in the dark. Perhaps scouts or maybe sharpshooters, crawling toward the Asterian camp to snipe at the sentinels.
Martel tapped Eleanor four times, signalling the number of enemies. She turned her head to look at him, nodding slowly to indicate her readiness.
Raising his staff to plant it in the ground, Martel took a deep breath. Magic travelled from his hand up to the ruby, and a bolt of lightning jumped out to cross the distance to the Khivans in the dark. It leapt from one target to another, illuminating the night to show a tableau of bodies twisting in pain.
As soon as his spell was released, Eleanor sprinted forward with empowered speed while drawing her sword. Any who had survived Martels magic fell to her blade.
They quickly reunited; Eleanor cleaned her sword, returned it to its sheath, and they continued forward.
***
Sir? Wake up, sir.
Martel blinked. Looking out of his tent, he saw daylight along with a legionary waiting. After the last few nights of activities, his and Eleanors rhythm had changed, and they slept most of the day. What is it?
Sir Avery bids you join her by the western gate when you can.
Ominous, though if they were about to be attacked, Martel assumed the message would have sounded more urgent. Well be right there. He began putting on his boots.
Moments later, he and Eleanor crossed the small distance to reach the western end of camp. They passed by a newly built enclosure, where the remaining horses were kept safely inside the walls; Martel still felt uncomfortable at the reminder of the slaughter as he walked past them.
Moving up the ramparts, they joined Avery, who briefly acknowledged them with a glance over her shoulder. Take a look.
Martel squinted his eyes. In the far distance, he saw movements of small, coloured dots. The legion? he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
Afraid not. A patrol returned not long ago. That is a Khivan column, Avery told them.
Numbers? Eleanor asked.
Hard to tell, but certainly in the thousands. At least twice ours.
Are they marching here or being driven away? Martel asked. If the legion had broken through their lines of defence in the forest, the Khivans would be in full retreat.
Impossible to say, Avery admitted. But we will know once their route becomes clear. Whether they are headed for us or not.
If the former, what shall we do? Eleanor looked at the other mageknight with growing concern on her face.
Look to our defences. Avery glanced over her shoulder again. I asked Sir Dominic to come, but it does not appear he will. I better go to him and inform him. Excuse me. As the prefect left, her space by the walls was taken by legionaries, more and more of them coming to catch a glimpse at the enemy.
Martel and Eleanor also made their way down the crowded ramparts, only stopping once they had a little breathing room to themselves. What are we to do? he asked her. This was starting to remind Martel of when they had been besieged in the outpost. He hated that feeling, being trapped.
If they are marching here, it will soon be too dangerous to leave camp, Eleanor considered. But let us avoid speculations and delay decisions until we know for sure.
I guess well know soon enough.
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