Brock stood outside the wall and considered his plan. He and eighty-seven others had received a Power augmentation. While it was a small portion of his army, each augmented soldier was worth dozens of standard warriors.
Those soldiers leaped over the west wall, returning to the city side. Moments later, they jumped back carrying another soldier. Without a gate to that side of the city, over the wall was the only way out. Soon, seven hundred warriors stood outside the city wall, waiting alongside his Power augmented super-soldiers.
Four sizeable gaps now existed in the half-mile-long palisade connecting the city wall to the forest edge. Fires burned on the flashbomb-blasted logs adjacent to the gaps.
Brock used Power to augment his voice. “It is time to make our stand!” His voice was loud and clear, over the thumping explosions from the northeast. “The augmented soldiers are to lead the way and break the enemy front. The others will clean up. Take out the war machines first and keep moving to make yourself a difficult target. This is a fight to the death, so take no quarter!” He raised his arm high. “Attack!”
He spun about, ran toward the palisade wall, and leaped over it.
A flashbomb exploded below him, the force of the blast knocking him off balance and sending him falling face-first toward the ground, fifty feet below.
Broland stood in the center square along with two hundred soldiers. Those men and women stared at him, waiting for his command. Somewhere to the west, his father was forming a counterattack while he stood here doing nothing. Explosions continued in the north quarter of the city as fires raged. The blasts were slowly growing closer.
He turned toward the citadel where the citizens huddled in fear – thousands of people who wondered if they would survive the night. I cannot allow the enemy to reach the citadel, Broland thought. Those people…we promised them protection. The hundred guards within the citadel walls were the last line of defense, something he hoped would not be needed.
Another explosion rocked the night, and Broland frowned, turning to look south. “Did that come from the harbor?”
The next blast left little doubt as a tower of flames and dust filled the sky over the gate. Broland climbed on top of the fountain edge and turned toward the troops assigned to him.
“Listen! My father is dealing with our threat to the north, but the south gate is locked and unguarded. They seek to surprise us by capturing the city while we fight to the north!” A thousand eyes were staring at him, relying on him for direction. “We cannot allow Imperial forces into the citadel. Here is what we must do!”
Brock got his hands beneath him and pushed himself to his knees. His body hurt, but was whole. The Power augmentation had saved him from a fall that would otherwise shatter bones.
His Chaos-charged squad ran past him as a staccato of bangs came from the Imperial Army. Many of the men and women lurched, staggered, and fell. One landed beside him with a hole in his forehead, eyes staring vacantly into nothing.
“We must be more evasive!” He climbed to his feet and released a Power-augmented shout. “Jump! Don’t let them take aim at you!”
With a massive leap, he flew toward the nearest catapult. Two more leaps carried him over the enemy’s front line – soldiers armed with long weapons made of wood and metal. Those must be muskets, he thought. Many tried to shoot at him but missed.
Brock landed beside a catapult, dropped his staff, and grabbed ahold of the frame. Lifting it with a furious jerk, he spun about. The catapult – a thousand pounds of wood and metal – swung in a circle and smashed through every Imperial soldier within a twelve-foot radius of where he stood. One rotation later, he released his grip and sent the machine sailing through the air to land thirty feet away, crushing dozens of enemy soldiers before crashing into another catapult. A flashbomb fell from the second catapult’s launch basket and ignited. An explosion erupted, the blast killing a score of the enemy.
Around Brock, Chaos-charged soldiers tore into the invaders, cutting through them as if they were straw before a scythe. More explosions followed as the battlefield became a killing ground.
Everson stared out the window as Colossus raced down the hill, toward the distant fires lighting the night.
They had camped just five miles north of Wayport. The first explosion had woken Curan, the second bringing Cassie awake as well. By the time Everson and Ivy had stirred, Curan was preparing Gorgant to ride. There was little doubt as to what was occurring, and they had no time to waste.
Rounding a bend, Everson turned a tad too late and Colossus ran over the shrubs beside the road before careening off a tree. The machine returned to the road, leveled, and came upon another bend, this one more gradual and easier to navigate – even at a high speed.
Ahead, the fires became visible through the trees. A hand clamped on Everson’s shoulder and he jumped, pulling the drive levers backward, Colossus slowing as he looked backward.
“Stop the machine, Ev,” Cassie said.
He disengaged the drive levers and pulled the break, bringing them to a stop.
“What’s this about?” He turned back to find Cassie at the door with their only Chaos trap in her hand.
“I’m getting out.”
“You needn’t worry,” Ivy said. “Remember the augmentations we did to this thing? It should be fairly safe.”
Cassie arched a brow. “Should be?” Ivy glanced at Everson, but before he could reply, Cassie said, “Never mind. That’s not why I’m getting out.” She opened the door as Curan and Gorgant settled on the road beside them. “I’m joining Curan. It is time to use my magic for something that matters.”
“What?” Ivy said with alarm.
“What about us, and why did you take the Chaos trap?” Everson asked.
Cassie turned toward him. “Do what you came to do. This is the chance for all of us to make a difference. The trap is for me. I’ll need it after I use my magic on Curan.”
With that, she closed the door. The thump of explosions arose from ahead, the flames flickering in gaps through the trees.
“She’s right.” Ivy said as she settled in beside him. “We only need two of us to make this thing lethal.”
He nodded, taking a breath to firm his resolve. “Right. It is time to behave like a warden.”
When the drive levers moved forward, the Chaos-Conduction engine whirred and the machine lurched into motion. The machine rounded a bend and slowed as the battle came into view.
A wall of wagons and steam carriages blocked the road, the vehicles stacked three rows deep. Well beyond the blockade, thousands of Imperial soldiers stood on an open field staring toward a burning city. Catapults at the front of the army were aimed at the city, firing bombs and bringing destruction to the innocents who lived within. The sight stirred anger within Everson as he found himself facing another bully, intent on their own agenda regardless of how it impacted others.
“Hold tight!”
He slammed both drive levers forward, the acceleration pinning him to the rear wall of the cockpit. When Colossus crashed into the narrow gap between the first two wagons, he stumbled forward, watching as the plow blades lifted the wagons, tipped them up, and pushed them aside before colliding into the second row. Again, Colossus shoved the obstacles aside and then crashed directly into a steam carriage. Colossus slowed, but the wheels continued to spin, pushing the metal carriage forward until it turned and tipped over.
Suddenly, they were in the open.
“Ready the weapon!” Everson pulled back on the drive levers, slowing Colossus to a stop while he located his first target.
Ivy stood and opened a drawer where the bronze-encased flashbombs were stored. Everson moved Colossus forward, turning it slightly until the crosshairs he had etched into the windshield aligned with his target.
“Ready,” Ivy said.
“Fire!”
The moment the catapult fired, he pushed one lever forward, pulling it to neutral when properly aligned. The first bomb struck, demolishing the enemy catapult.
“Fire!”
Another launch resulted in another catapult destroyed. The duo repeated the process, again and again, destroying the Imperial war machines and anything near them.
Cassie watched Everson drive away and turned toward Curan with a chunk of glowstone in one hand, the Chaos trap in another. The trap was bulky, larger and more powerful than the ones Everson had made for Quinn.
“Show me your rune.”
Curan tossed his cloak aside and pulled up a sleeve to expose his arm. He frowned at her while she drew a rune on her own hand. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making a difference.”
She lifted the glowstone, giving enough light for her to see his rune. With a belly full of determination and backed by fear, she grappled with Chaos and drew it in, absorbing as much as she had ever held. Her body trembled with the energy as it threatened to destroy its host. She poured Chaos into the symbol on Curan’s arm. It glowed red, pulsed, and faded, bringing a wave of exhaustion with her magic expended.
She then pressed the Chaos trap against the rune on her hand. Pain seared her skin as raw, electric energy poured into the rune. With her teeth gritted, Cassie held the Chaos trap in place until the magic was spent. Tossing the Chaos trap aside, she waited as the rune pulsed and began to fade.
A gasp escaped as the augmentation took hold, the intake of her breath sounding louder, more distinct than normal. The darkness receded, the forest growing lighter as if it were midday.
“Be well, Curan,” She said before slipping away.
When Cassie used her magic on the symbol marking his arm, Curan’s vision turned white, and he feared he might fall from the saddle. His sight returned, but Cassie was gone.
“Be well, Curan.” He heard her voice, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Where’d she go? He wondered. Pushing the thought aside, he dismounted. “This fight is not for you, Gorgant. Stay here where it is safe. I will return if I survive.”
He turned and ran, moving faster than humanly possible, powered by the augmentation. A leap took him beyond the pile of wagons and steam carriages at the edge of the wood. He landed north of the battlefield, not far from where Colossus stood. The machine was firing flashbombs toward Imperial war machines, across a sea of soldiers waiting for slaughter. With his shield leading, he slammed into the rear ranks, driving a particularly imposing soldier forward with enough force to knock down dozens of others.
Curan drew his sword. Enemies to the left and right drew weapons in response. Cries of rage rang out from hundreds of warriors intent on murder.
These soldiers had never fought a man under a Power augmentation. If they had, they would have run rather than fight.
Blood began to rain upon the battlefield.
Jonah ran, as did the hundreds of Kantarian soldiers with him. Captain Marcella, on her horse, led them at a trot with Thiron riding beside her. Even in the dark, it was easy to imagine the scowls imprinted on their faces.
Thumps came from ahead as fire lit the evening sky. Wayport was dying. With that much firepower, the city had to be dying. An invading army of thousands had attacked at night, something that surprised even Marcella.
Her army had trailed the enemy since leaving the prison, never approaching closer than four or five miles. When the attack began, Marcella stirred them into a hurried march. Despite a much smaller force with a single arcanist, she demanded they try to save the city. Fed with her fierce words of inspiration, that force now ran toward the enemy, banking on the advantage of surprise. Jonah just hoped they didn’t die from exhaustion.
They rounded a corner, and a bridge came into view. Beyond the bridge, pandemonium.
Explosions rocked the field as the Imperial Army waited for the battle to reach them. Behind the army was a massive metal machine unlike anything Jonah had ever seen.
The Kantarian Army raced across the bridge and crashed into the east flank, swords slashing and blood-soaked as they roared. The Imperial enemy turned to receive them. Marcella hacked at surrounding enemies, and her horse trampled any who fell before her. Thiron fired arrow after arrow from the saddle, taking out Imperial soldiers at will. The flank went from calm to chaos in a moment as soldiers began to die.
Jonah avoided the melee and settled on the empty road as he considered what he should do.
He spied a tall Kantarian soldier tearing through the invaders as if they were paper dolls, his sword whirling as an unstoppable deliverer of death. It was as if he were a legend come alive. A trail of bodies lay behind him as he relentlessly marched along the army’s rear flank. Then, he leaped impossibly high and landed closer to Jonah before charging into the fray, his sword swinging left and right in broad, deadly strokes that left corpses and body parts in his wake. Power augmentation, Jonah thought. This is why wildcats are so dangerous.
The Power-augmented soldier lurched when an arrow pierced his back. He lurched again and again and again as other arrows pelted him. Someone’s sword thrust in and buried deep enough to emerge from his back. This grand warrior, this force of nature, crumpled to his knees.
Thunder shook the ground, and Jonah turned toward the sound. His eyes grew wide, and he cried out in fright.
Chuli rode low on Rhychue, hugging the horse as she sped down the road. Her uncle, Cameron, rode beside her on his white stallion, wearing his helm and full armor. She, he, and the Tantarri warriors were riding to war.
Four hundred warriors rode with them – all with dark topknots trailing shaved heads, dressed in leather, and armed with swords, spears, or bows. Those men and women were trained to fight from a young age, raised to be the protectors of the Tantarri nation. This fight may not be theirs, but old grudges held fast. It had been two decades since the Empire had warred with the Tantarri, yet everyone remembered. The rise of their old enemy would not be suffered, so they rode to support Cam’s friend, King Brock.
As they approached the bridge, the battlefield came into view. Cam drew his sword and raised it high while he issued a battle cry, immediately returned by the riders behind him.
Marcella’s troops were engaged with the invader’s eastern flank, just south of the road, so Cam and the Tantarri circled around the Kantarian army and struck the enemy from behind. Chuli broke off from the group, slowing as someone standing in the road scrambled out of the way – someone familiar.
The horse drew to a stop and Chuli turned toward him. “Jonah?”
“Thank Issal you arrived!”
“Yes,” She surveyed the battlefield.
“One of ours just fell, right there,” He pointed toward the downed soldier. “A tall guy, charged by Chaos, fighting alone. A wildcat, I think.”
“A wildcat?” Chuli spotted the man, not far from where the Tantarri were fighting.
Jonah put his hand on her leg. “Clear the path, Chuli. Perhaps I can heal him.”
A surge of pride ran through Chuli. “You are a good person, Jonah.” Raising her bow, she reached into her quiver, nocked an arrow, and began to fire, loosing arrow after arrow.