novelraw B3 Chapter 78: A Rock and… Another Rock
B3 Chapter 78: A Rock and… Another Rock
B3 Chapter 78: A Rock and… Another Rock
Quintus sensed the incoming volley of rocks before they took flight. With a quick command, he impressed the danger upon his men and raised his shield above his head. His brethren followed suit in one smooth motion as similar commands came all along the walls and aerial scaffolds. A moment later, a tapping like that of rainfall against a roof sounded overhead. The almost gentle patter belied the lethality of the projectiles—something that a few of the men had already learned.
After a few moments, the hail lessened as their foes ran out of stones to throw for now. Quintus gave the order to lower shields and resume their own assault. Spears, stones, and arrows repaid the orcs’ attack in kind, though with far more effective results.
The first wall had long since fallen. The second, however, was proving more than up to the task. The narrow paths were doing their part to limit the number of orcs passing through, and a few switchbacks through the mountains ensured that the massive mob behind didn’t have a clear line of fire to the men stationed there. Plenty of orcs attempted to scale the sheer cliffs on either side of the path and circumvent the intended path. However, they were easily shot down as soon as they stuck their heads up.
Some of their more forward-positioned artillery had been forced to reposition under the weight of the ranged assaults—[Coordinated Bulwark] could only do so much to protect a massive siege engine from the hail of stones. Fortunately, some of them were still able to fire upon the larger concentrations of orcs and whittle down their impossible numbers further. One of the engineers had even managed to tweak the sling tubes to arc their shots over the wall by lowering their power.
It was a tradeoff in effectiveness, made less so with the use of explosives, and the fact that they no longer needed to position the firearms in exposed locations was a great boon. One Quintus and Gaius agreed was worth it, now that their proclivities for explosions had been addressed.
“Sir!” Quintus heard a messenger call over to him. “The earthshapers report that the gate reinforcements are complete.”
Quintus nodded, not even turning to look as he hurled another spear. “Have half remain and focus on repairing any incoming damage. The rest should prepare fortifications to deal with these damn rocks.”
The man saluted and passed the message along. That should help them against another battering ram assault, assuming the orcs could somehow maneuver one up here. So far, they hadn't managed, but who could say? Maybe they'd start bashing each other's skulls against the gate to great effect.
Things continued on for a while longer in the same manner. The Legionnaires continued to defend against the enemy assault, the tides of battle rising and ebbing as more rock-wielding orcs pushed their way to the front. The enemy was still making forward progress, but not quickly enough to turn the situation dire. The countermeasures the Legion had put in place were working as intended.
Of course, they didn't stay that way.
“Sir,” the messenger spoke again, an edge to his voice. “The enemy has penetrated behind our lines. They’re attacking our camp.”
Quintus swore under his breath and turned to face the man. “How?”
“There’s a tunnel. They enlisted the help of some monstrous worm to burrow past our defenses.”
He swore again, already pulling back out of position. “Hold the line. I need to speak with Gaius.”
The Primus Pilus rushed down the wall to find his Legatus. The man was already aware of the situation, of course, standing amidst a gaggle of officers and communications specialists as he issued orders. Gaius glanced up at his approach.
“How many men can you spare?”
Quintus gritted his teeth. “Not many. Not unless we want to let this gate fall like the last.”
The young man nodded gravely, expecting the answer. “Scrape together whatever men you can. There’s little point in holding the gates if they merely turn into a noose around our necks. We’ll send whatever artillery we can as well.”
Quintus nodded. They’d prepared countermeasures against such attacks, of course. However, those countermeasures were placed at the front of the fight, where they’d expected the issue to appear. They didn’t have catapults and ballistae aimed within their own camp, not when they were needed elsewhere.
He was already doing the mental calculations of what men he could pull and from where when the messengers’ eyes went wide. “Sit. We’ve lost contact with the messengers at the rear. Skill inactivation suspected.”
A round of swearing arose at the revelation. Gaius’s expression turned grave. “Primus. There’s no time to waste. Get your men and—”
He felt it before he saw it. [Tactician’s Awareness] screamed at the same time that the messengers did. “Skill inactivation incoming!”
A deep pulse rippled across the battlefield. Instantly, the din of battle quieted as the orcs regained their heads and the Legionnaires lost access to many of their more devastating skills.
“They can do it twice?!” One of the officers fretted. “This isn’t good. Legatus—”
“Calm yourself, Augustus,” Gaius snapped at the officer, shutting him up instantly. He looked around to take in the men. “We made a plan for this. Put it into action.”
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There were nods all around. Distantly, Quintus found himself approving of the boy’s response. At the same time, it was clear that the officers had grown even softer than he’d realized. He’d need to resolve that. A leader had no place panicking, especially not in front of his men.
The messengers were the first to respond, taking off at dead sprints to pass along orders on foot as they used to. Others began climbing the watchtowers to lift colorful flags as signals to the men. The temporary lull quickly faded as the battle ramped up once more, though it did not reach the same intensity.
Quintus nodded to the earthshapers and engineers scrambling for their toolboxes. “I can escort them back to another gate. Then at least they’ll be able to put their talents to use.”
Gaius nodded. “Take them to the third and reinforce it. If the field reaches that far, then retreat back further. And be prepared for an attack from behind. At this point, we need to assume the worst.”
The two men exchanged grim nods before getting back to it. Quintus wasted no time in pulling men off the line to rush back up the passes. It would be a slower journey than he would have liked, given how they lacked [Warpath’s] speed boost. But the scaffolding would give them a more direct path than the constant switchbacks the orcs were dealing with.
As soon as he massed his men, Quintus noted that the orcs began to fight with renewed fervor. Not to the same level as when they’d been seized with their characteristic berserker rage. But it was clear that their commander was seizing the opportunity fully.
It was no wonder why. The situation was poor, to put it lightly. The fact that their camp had been turned into a battlefield was bad enough. Their supplies, wounded, and reinforcements were no longer secure. There was no guarantee that fresh men would be able to rotate to the front lines as they’d been planning. And if the rear failed to hold? Then those reinforcements wouldn’t just be gone. They’d be replaced with an enemy assault. The very fortifications the Legion had erected and spent so much time preparing may well become their doom. And if the orcs began destroying the scaffolds, or worse, used the same tunneling method to collapse the mountain? The Legion would be finished.
They’d already known this battle would be a slog. But now, without a chance to rest amidst the monotony of battle? That was how men began to make mistakes. How they got sloppy.
“Move!” Quintus barked. “To the rear, quickly! Run until we get out of this blasted field, then we march!”
He led a few contubernia of men across the scaffolds and toward the rear gates. He refused to show any of the doubt or uncertainty he felt before them. He was their Primus Pilus. If he were anything less than steadfast and unwavering, then how could they be expected to be the same?
***
The Romans’ strange obsession with roads was one of those things that Marcus had always taken for granted. It was an eccentricity of the strange and expansionist people, one that somehow never failed to work itself up the list of priorities. That and the incessant efforts to revise conquered cities’ plumbing, something he'd admittedly benefited from quite a bit.
Now, he once again found himself silently grateful for the Legion’s efforts. The surprisingly well-paved road sped by under Gerald's gallop as they focused on speed with little concern for the terrain. Even better, the path made the job of finding these Legionnaire reinforcements comically simple. All they had to do was follow it back toward Novara.
As it turned out, the Legionnaires weren’t strictly on their path. But they weren’t difficult to spot, considering the cloud of dust rising with their movements. Abel and Marcus wheeled toward them, only to find a scout calling out soon after.
“Halt! State your name and your business here.”
They slowed as Marcus squinted at the man and smiled tiredly. “Am I truly so difficult to recognize, Flavius? I understand that travel has left me the worse for wear, but…”
Flavius snorted. “Oh. It’s you. I thought it must be some other [Royal Bard], given that I didn’t hear your singing from a mile away.”
Marcus chuckled and shook his head, then turned grave. “As much as I’d like to chat, we have important business. I need to speak to whoever’s in charge. Your brothers at Corwyn Pass are in trouble.”
The Legionnaire read his expression and nodded. “Right. Follow me. He’ll want to hear about this.”
They hurried through the lines of massing Legionnaires and toward the centurion in command. As they moved, Marcus noticed a number of wagons being pulled along by beasts of burden, each one piled high with freshly butchered meat, bones, and an assortment of monster parts. He also noticed that these weren’t just normal Legionnaires. It was a cohort composed of an eclectic bunch of men, some festooned with animal bones, others carrying musical instruments, and even a few decked out in flashy and colorful clothing that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Marcus. He also spotted a handful among them that seemed to be wearing mages’ robes—a sight that brought him a bit of relief.
“Claudius, sir! News from Corwyn Pass!” Flavius called out as they approached a centurion wearing what appeared to be a shadow panther skull as a helm. More bones of every shape and size rattled as he turned to face the approaching group.
“News?” His eyes narrowed as he took in Marcus. “I’ve heard nothing from the messengers. Why send someone on foot?”
“Because the messengers can’t use their skills right now,” Marcus stated bluntly. He quickly recounted the situation, emphasizing the ongoing conflict as he summarized things. The centurion listened in silence before nodding.
“I see. Well.” Claudius crossed his arms. “No more detours for us, it seems. The locals will have to deal with these monster incursions themselves for a while.”
He turned to his men and barked out orders. “Form up! We march in five minutes, full speed! Whatever we can’t carry ourselves gets left behind, animals included!”
As the men began rushing about, Claudius turned to a man at his side. “Inform the emperor of the situation. Request that he send as many mages as possible.” Then he returned his attention to Marcus’s squire and horse. “Will you be able to keep up? If not, don’t expect us to wait.”
“We can,” Abel stated with absolute confidence as he patted Gerald’s neck. “He’s the most stubborn horse I’ve ever seen.”
“Are you certain that your men will be enough?” Marcus eyed the group dubiously. “I don’t know how long that field will be around for. If these men rely on their skills…”
“That will complicate things. But I’m certain that we can find ways around that particular issue.” Claudius stated matter-of-factly. “The osteomancers, charm specialists, and taunters will be able to take full advantage once it falls, regardless. Besides, if magic works as you say, then a dozen half-mages raining fire upon their heads is certain to cause problems. Now, give me details as we move. How large is this tunnel? How many men are in the camp?”
Marcus continued to answer the centurion’s questions, with Abel taking over once they began to move. He had enough stamina to spur the men on with an [Inspirational Song], after all, and talking while singing was a skill that Marcus had not yet mastered. Before long, the group was racing toward Corwyn Pass and its embattled Legionnaires with renewed purpose.