The night was still, as were Percy and the archers in his party. A distant, warbling call of a jackaroo echoed in the pre-dawn twilight at the eastern horizon. Time passed, and the dark outline of the ridge materialized as the sky behind it slowly grew brighter. He was positioned between the same two boulders on the same trail as he had been three mornings prior.
Four pale glowlamps gave faint illumination to the prison wall below. Curiously, the lamps had not been charged for many hours, the glowstone powder settled at the bottom. Near the lamps, Percy could just make out the guards on duty. He stared hard at one guard for some time, but there was no movement. Perhaps he fell asleep. Just as well. There is no escape now.
It had been a long night. At Percy’s suggestion, the army had advanced the last few miles during the night and without the use of steam carriages to pull the catapults. Mollis had resisted the idea, but Brillens insisted and refused to bring his musketeers unless Mollis took precautions, among which included sending scouts ahead to sweep for traps.
The army had advanced eight miles during each of the first two days before camping for a night. On the third evening, Percy and a woman named Riva Lorric led a small squad of rangers ahead of the primary force. Percy took the group along the narrow trail to their destination. Covered in darkness, the rangers then descended to the canyon floor and swept the area from the trail to the canyon mouth, leaving only the thousand feet nearest to the prison wall unscouted. They then marked the safe zone with a long line that ran across the road and beyond before sneaking back to the narrow trail where they now waited. Percy, Riva, and the other rangers remained ready with bows to make sure nobody escaped by taking the trail.
Percy heard the creaking of approaching catapults as they were pushed into place. Soon he spotted the nearly imperceptible silhouettes of the Imperial army filling the canyon.
Another jackaroo call echoed from the east end of the canyon, and the sky grew brighter as sunrise approached. The plan was to strike at first light. However, Mollis was not a patient person.
Shouts echoed from the Imperial Army’s position, followed by the unmistakable thuds of catapults launching. Percy stood for a better view since stealth was no longer necessary.
A dozen thumping explosions of green fire lit the night as sections of the wall blasted apart and shook the ground. Some bombs landed beyond the wall, one hitting a building inside the compound. The fires turned orange, the bloom making it easier to see.
One section of the wall remained, the guard posted on top of it now leaning to one side but not moving. Percy frowned as he stared at it. Moments later, more flashbombs detonated, destroying the last of the wall in a flash of green.
That was a dummy, Percy realized. Why post dummies on the wall? The moment he thought it, he burst into a run down the trail, toward the canyon floor. As he ran, soldiers pushed catapults forward, reloaded them, and fired again. This time, every bomb landed inside the compound, destroying buildings and whatever else might remain within.
As Percy reached the bottom, the sun edged over the horizon, lighting the surrounding ridgeline but was still too low to shine upon the canyon floor. He ran toward the road where Mollis and Brillens waited on horseback, the commanders calling out orders as the men on foot prepared to attack.
Waving his arms to get their attention, Percy shouted, “Stop! Stop! Don’t fire! Don’t attack!”
Finally, Brillens noticed Percy running toward them. He said something to Mollis and both turned toward Percy as he slowed, panting for air.
“Don’t waste any more bombs,” Percy said as he came to a stop. “Hold the attack.”
Mollis scowled. “We have them right where we want them. Why stop?”
Percy shook his head. “No, you don’t. They aren’t here.”
Mollis was about to retort but was interrupted by Brillens. “Explain yourself, soldier.”
“I see no movement inside. I hear no screams or shouts of panic.” He pointed east. “On top of the wall, they had dummies posted to make us think the wall was guarded. I caught a clear view of one guard just before the last explosion. It was nothing but straw on a stick, wearing armor.”
With a contemplative expression, Brillens stared at the prison, its walls now only burning rubble. The other man glowered, as if Percy had been the one who tricked him.
“Have Riva and the rangers scout the place,” Brillens said. “Make sure it is empty and free from traps.”
Percy was prepared to retort, but thought better of it. Instead, he ran back to the trail and waved the rangers down. Led by Riva, they hurried to the canyon floor and surrounded him. When the last man was there, Percy turned to Riva.
“I suspect the prison is abandoned but Brillens and Mollis ordered us to scout the complex for enemies and for traps. Let’s split into two groups. Half go with Riva, the other half with me.”
He waited for Riva to reply. The woman was a decade older and outranked him. Dressed in green leathers, with short-cropped hair and eyes like a bird of prey, she looked every bit a ranger. The bow in her hand and knives at her hips didn’t hurt.
“My group will take the north side; Percy will take the south,” she said. “Everyone remain wary with an arrow nocked.”
Riva called the names of four rangers and took off toward the north end of the wall. With a wave, Percy spun and jogged toward the south end of the wall with his squad close behind.
The sections of the wall that had been intact before the assault were now piles of burning rubble. Thankfully, the portion of the wall that had been destroyed years ago had not been targeted and lacked the flames that burned elsewhere. Percy climbed the old, dusty debris while watching the compound interior.
Smoke swirled and fires still burned from the closest buildings, or what remained of them. There was no movement inside. The scouts advanced carefully, running to each new building before peeking around the corner and advancing to the next. It wasn’t until they were deep into the compound, beyond the last building, when Percy spotted someone moving about. He lowered his bow and approached her.
“Did you see anyone?” Percy asked Riva.
“No. We searched the bunkhouses. They are empty. This entire place appears abandoned.”
He peered toward the dark tunnel openings cut in the cliff wall. “We should check the tunnels, but I doubt we will find anything.” The air rang as his short sword slipped free from its scabbard. “We will need some light. I’m sure it will be dark in there.”
Mollis paced before his horse with his fists clenched. Between the man and the ruined wall were hundreds of footprints, all leading from the prison to the canyon mouth. In the dark of night, it had been impossible to see the tracks left by the Kantarian Army. With the sun now shining on the canyon floor, the same footprints were impossible to miss.
“You checked the mining tunnels?” Brillens asked while Mollis paced.
“Yes, Commander,” Riva said. “They are a bit of a maze, some becoming loops, others dead ends, and a few collapsed, but we found nobody inside.”
“They must have run east, to Wayport.” Mollis said in a heated voice. “We hold the city, so they will find no shelter there. If we continue, we will catch them and grind them to dust outside the city walls.”
Brillens narrowed his eyes in thought. “While I agree with your assessment, advancing to Wayport is outside of our current orders. We were to wait for word from Captain Sculdin or General Kardan.” He gestured west, toward the waiting Imperial Army. “These troops are our responsibility. What if Kardan has other plans? Taking them down to Wayport could ruin everything.”
Mollis thrust his chest out and drew close to Brillens. “What other plans? Where else would we go? Fallbrandt? With winter still holding the valley hostage?”
The distinctive sound of a galloping horse arose and drew everyone’s attention. Turning to look west, Percy spied a rider coming toward them at a fast clip. The rider slowed to a trot upon reaching the soldiers, their gazes following as the man passed by.
Just short of where Mollis and Brillens stood, the man stopped his horse and wiped his brow. “I’m seeking Commanders Mollis and Brillens.”
“I am Brillens.”
“Commander Mollis, here,” the man puffed up as he spoke.
The rider nodded. “I thought so. When I reached Hipoint and discovered you broke camp, I was worried. Thankfully, an army with war machines leaves a trail difficult to miss.”
“Yes, yes. Now, what is this about?” Mollis demanded.
“I come from Sol Polis with new orders.” The man drew a folded parchment from his saddlebag and handed it to Mollis.
The commander examined the wax seal, opened it, and read to himself. His grimace deepened as he squinted in concern. A grin then replaced his frown, and he handed the message to Brillens. “It turns out our decision has been made. We are to march to Wayport immediately. When we arrive, we attack at Sculdin’s signal.”
“Attack?” Percy exclaimed. “But Chadwick is on our side.”
“Yes, he was. However, dead men have no allegiance.”
“Oh, no,” Brillens groaned as he read the missive. “King Brock lives. He has executed Chadwick and reclaimed the city. We are to attack four days from now and take it back.”
Mollis climbed onto his horse. “We have sixty miles to travel and little time to do so. We had best march. Now.”