Firebrand - Chapter 611: Firmly in Place

Firmly in Place

By next day, the situation became apparent; the Khivan column was marching straight toward them. The mood in the camp became alarmed, though the prefects and junior officers did their best to suppress such emotions. Their position was well chosen on the hill, and because of all the slaughtered horses, they had more than enough meat to last them many days. Furthermore, several trips to the river were quickly organised, filling every possible container in the camp with water.

Toward the afternoon, the Khivan force reached their destination, coming to a halt just a few miles west of the cohorts of the Tenth Legion. The Asterians could watch as they set up rudimentary defences, fortifying their own camp. The reports from the scouts yesterday could be confirmed; the Khivans numbered at least two thousand, probably three. Adding their cannons to this, they had no reason to fear an attack by the legionaries.

***

As night came, Martel and Eleanor remained inside the camp. They did not abandon vigilance, however. Instead, they constantly walked the walls along their entire length, with Martel using his ability to scour the darkness for any signs of heat. It proved a long and ultimately eventless night, but if nothing else, the sight of the two prefects patrolling made the legionaries on duty feel more at ease.

The arrival of day did little to relieve the tension inside the walls. Several hundreds of the Khivans marched out from their own camp. Once close to the Asterians, they began working on what could only be siege defences. Besides fortifying the area against a sortie by the legionaries, they also began building wooden structures opposite the western gate.

“It is an emplacement,” Avery mumbled. “I have seen it before.” Next to her, the other prefects looked down the hill at where Khivans assembled some kind of wooden platform.

“What’s the purpose?” Martel asked.

“It is a place for their cannon. They probably only have smaller guns with this army, since they dragged it through the forest. It cannot hit us shooting uphill, so they are building an emplacement to angle it upward and keep it in place while firing,” the mageknight explained. She looked at Martel. “If we attack, can you destroy the cannon?”

“It’s complicated,” he replied. “What helps is when the cannon fires. It heats up the barrel, letting me reach it with magic. My direct spells won’t do much – fire doesn’t really hurt hardened bronze.”

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“I had expected more from the Firebrand,” the decurion muttered. He stared at the distant enemy, but his words were clearly intended for the other prefects standing around him on the ramparts. “It seems like all the soldier talk about your abilities is just that, talk.”

“Sir Martel has proven himself time and time again,” Eleanor replied with a cold voice. “He is the strongest mage in this legion. If we are to survive this siege, he will play an invaluable role.”

Her words had an effect on every prefect present. Martel hid a smile. Both Avery and Valerius looked apprehensive, while Dominic stiffened. “I have seen little evidence of that so far on this campaign. If your words held any truth, I would expect to see him destroy that Khivan assembly.”

“I can burn the timber with ease, of course,” Martel interjected. “But I have to get close. That’s not really an option in broad daylight, given how many Khivans swarm the area.” He looked at Eleanor, who nodded in return. “Come nightfall, we can give it a try.”

“You sound confident,” the decurion sneered.

“If it can be done, Martel will do it,” Eleanor stated, her voice ringing cold as steel once more. “I will not listen to any disparage his abilities.”

Dominic turned his head to stare at her with disdain. “There was a time I pitied you. A mageknight shackled to this Tyrian peasant. Your servile attitude makes me wonder if perhaps that is all you are good for.”

Martel felt anger rise in him from his chest to his fingertips. His magic could snap the decurion in twain like a twig. Nobody would be able to stop him.

“Prefects!” Avery’s voice broke through, making some of the legionaries nearby turn to look in their direction. “The enemy is outside the walls,” she continued with a lowered voice. “What Sir Martel suggests seems sensible. Under the cover of dark, he and Sir Fontaine will make their attempt.”

A sneer ran across Dominic’s face, but he made no reply. He simply stalked down from the ramparts. Martel watched him walk away, trying to control his ire. He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew it to be Eleanor’s. With faint pressure, she insinuated for him to move, and together, they left the walls as well.

Once away from the immediate vicinity of others, she spoke quietly, “Take a deep breath.” She glanced around with an idle expression as if making inconsequential conversation. “His remarks are irrelevant. You have proven yourself.”

Martel realised she thought he was angry because of what Dominic had said about him. He caught her eyes. “If he speaks that way to you again, I’ll kill him,” he simply said.

She bit her lower lip. “Let us give the Khivans a chance to do it first. We will have plenty of fighting ahead of us.”

Martel knew she was just trying to distract him and give him time to calm down, but she was also right. They had a difficult night ahead of them. The Khivans would expect some kind of sortie against their emplaced artillery. “We should probably prepare ourselves for tonight,” he admitted.

“We should.” She relaxed her shoulders. “You will have plenty of good targets for your spells.”

***

Waiting for nightfall proved too optimistic, as the Khivans had their own plans. When the sun was still an hour from the horizon, a dreadful sound pierced the Asterian camp. Martel and Eleanor looked at each other, recognising it as the noise of a cannon being fired.