Arriving back in camp after an uneventful ride, I immediately depart to find Val Maxis. With bad news, it is better to deliver it personally and immediately so as to mitigate its effects. Never let another be the first to speak of one’s failures.
I find the area of camp that the other apprentices are staying at but do not find their master. Several of the mages give me sideways glances and double takes between whispered exchanges. Well, at least this tells me my absence was noticed. I ask one of the older students—as in possibly as old as fifteen—where Val Maxis is thought to be.
“North side of camp. Inspecting the siege equipment for the morning with the higher ups.”
It would be inappropriate to interrupt so I stick with the others and act as though I did not sneak off for an entire day when I was supposed to be helping at the camp. There are still various items that need mending and other ways I can make myself seem useful, so I do them. The day is nearly at an end though, so I hope I will not have long to wait.
When it becomes clear that he will not be stopping by during supper, I reevaluate my current status and realize that the night before a siege is probably not going to provide a great opportunity to explain my actions. He will undoubtedly be in counsel with the commanders all night, going over last minute preparations. Very well. I resolve myself to going with the flow the rest of the time here unless an obvious opportunity arises. If I take no more risks I can, perhaps, work on the latter method of building trust: being reliable. I slip off to sleep with this firmly planted in my mind.
The siege will begin before dawn so as to catch the orcs by surprise. As groggy troops ease out of their bedrolls, I do my morning routine. One hundred each of squats, push-ups, side lunges, sit ups, and jumping jacks. Then I meditate and realign my mind to the arcanum.
I still don’t have many spells that will be very useful but I will make due. The other mages seem to have a sense of where to go so I follow. We march in darkness to the north end of camp among a throng of soldiers, small catapults, and light ballista. The forest means that overly tall weapons such as siege towers and trebuchets are out of the running. Several battering rams built onto plated carts are also present.
I recall the heavy, wrought gates from the images in the catoptromancy disc. Alone, the battering rams will not be enough to pry them open but I assume the tacticians know this.
This is not my war, I remind myself. As long as I remain among the living and can resume my studies at the tower then my needs are served. Whomever prevails the battle is inconsequential. Whichever side wins the war is not my care.
Before the first light of the rising sun begins to paint the forest in pale blue, the army begins to rumble toward the keep. The tree line breaks only where the highway has been cleared and otherwise continues straight up the sharp peaks of the mountain range. This is used to advantage. As we near, there is just enough light to maneuver the carts and catapults and troops to the edges without making an unholy racket. Once the tree line is breached, the wizards are to use illusion to hide the army as everything is put into place. It is the most vulnerable the Elysian force will be as the crux of the assault hinges on taking the orcs by surprise.
I am surprised that it all actually works. At least to some extent.
With ballistas aiming at the sentries guarding the entrance, the only warning the enemy gets is the crash of a synchronized volley of heavy bolts and boulders at the gate. The doors have been, surprisingly, left open—possibly to ventilate the enclosed, miles-long passage. With such an opportunity, the battering rams are quickly thrust forward and the volleys cease. Almost right away, orcs come spilling out of the gap toward the approaching armored battering rams.
More and more. An endless river of Hordian forces. Though the Elysians are dispatching them in a fair ratio, they never get closer than two-hundred yards to the entrance. By midday the catapults resume because there is ample room between the gates the embroiled melee to safely lob boulders. Just before sundown the orcs get the gate cleared of debris and reluctantly withdraw.
With the gate now closed, the Elysians are back to where they had expected to be had the gates not been found open at the start. Whether that had actually been fortuitous remains to be seen. In the aftermath, one of the catapults is destroyed and a battering ram had its wheels broken apart. Countless bodies lay in the road. The troops are shaken by the ferocity of the orcs’ counterattack, partly because they had not been anticipating it and partly because of how many there were.
Since I had not exhausted my magic on illusion and fireballs during the fighting, I am called to help repair the catapult and salvage the battering ram. This involves also invoking a darkness-based obscuring to hide our movements. Over the next several days I find myself resting during the day and going out with squads under cover of darkness. Sometimes to regain weapons, sometimes to regain men, sometimes to regain the dead. My owl likes this schedule. Each night, I employ the owl to scan for movement while I am out.
On the eighth day, the squad I am with is beset upon by orcs and goblins. This is the first time I’ve seen enemy patrols since the siege began. It was really only a matter of time before the Orc Hordes remembered that they have superior night vision and can harry us in the dark. That my owl did not report anything also means that they were using stealth tactics.
The assault is quick and brutal. I have just enough time to assess that there is no way to save the men I am with, so I bind earth arcanum throughout my body and thrust it partially out of the Materia. Now unable to be touched by mundane means, I retreat back to the camp. A couple of the goblins try to attack, but their blades pass through me. I am a specter.
The orcs attack every night now. This does not mean that my night time excursions stop—only that they send more men with me. No further squads are lost entirely, but that doesn’t mean everyone makes it back each night. By the end of the second week, the Elysians keep the catapults going all day and night so I am given reprieve some nights. Other times, a hurried mission is carried out in the breaks between reloadings.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
Follow @LieseAdler