Chapter 540: Second Shot
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Chapter 540: Second Shot
Second Shot
Martel sprinted through the forest. The sound of a musket firing reached him, and the bullet did a moment later as well, aimed at his back. His magical shield protected him, and he jumped to the other side of a small mound, providing him with cover. Evidently, changing the day of their patrols had not made much difference.
"How many?" Eleanor asked, hiding in the same place.
"Three ahead of us." Martel pointed in the different directions. "Another three or four coming from that angle, against ours." He gestured to the left. "And another marksman that way." To the right.
"I kill near me," came the rusty Asterian from their Tyrian scout, hiding nearby. He took off, creeping through the undergrowth.
"You have to help our soldiers," Martel urged her. Once the Khivans went into close combat and drove the legionaries out, the sharpshooters in the trees would take them down with ease. "My wall won't stretch far enough to blind them all."
"I cannot leave you with three sharpshooters aiming at you!"
"The others will die if you don't help them. And you'll draw their attention," Martel pointed out. "I'll deal with them from the other side."
The mageknight at his side exhaled, slowing her breath. "Stay alive," she told him quietly. With a sharp inhalation, she leapt up and ran through the forest.
Trying to stay calm, Martel told himself this was no worse than the other patrols. The scout would deal with the one to his right. Eleanor would handle those outflanking them and draw at least one sharpshooter's attention. That just left two. He had plenty of spellpower. He would not die in this forsaken forest.
Steeling himself, Martel summoned his shield and got on his feet. Using his magical sense, he knew where to find his enemy and ran straight towards him. At the same time, a wall of flames shot up to block the line of sight for the other marksman nearby.
"Of course. The bullet didn't hit me, anyway. It flew right past me." Martel remembered flinching, the strange sensation of surprise at the bullet, even though he watched the Khivan fire his weapon. "I didn't feel it."
"If you were not hit, why would you?" Eleanor asked absentmindedly, snapping the Khivan's musket in two.
"No, the bullet. I always sense them. They're like the fire bolts back in the Circle of Fire. Even if they're too fast for me to evade, I sense them. But I didn't this time" Unnerved, Martel looked around until he saw where the projectile had hit. Missing him, it had buried itself into a tree behind him. Taking out his knife, he dug it out. As he held it in his hand, he felt dread. Not just because the ball was cold, like death, but because of what it signified.
"Martel, what is it?"
He turned around and let it fall into Eleanor's hand. "It's gold. That's a mage killer bullet."
"It is not just a suspicion then. They are hunting you."
Martel nodded slowly. "We must expect this from every Khivan who wears a pistol in his belt."
"Sir," the princeps interjected. "The men are restless. All that noise will have attracted any others that might be nearby."
"There is none," the Tyrian scout declared. "If more, I would see. That's why few numbers. Only way to make ambush."
"Sir," the princeps spoke while studiously ignoring the northerner, "there seems to be little reason to linger."
"Alright," Eleanor said, and she unclasped the brown cloak they wore for patrols. "Create stretchers. We will make our return." She glanced at Martel, speaking in a lowered voice as she continued, "We need to tell Sir Lara. Changing the day of our patrol clearly did nothing."
"We'll talk with her when we're back," Martel assented, even as he feared it would not do much. The Khivans had caught his scent, and they appeared to be relentless in their pursuit.
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Chapter 540: Second Shot
Second Shot
Martel sprinted through the forest. The sound of a musket firing reached him, and the bullet did a moment later as well, aimed at his back. His magical shield protected him, and he jumped to the other side of a small mound, providing him with cover. Evidently, changing the day of their patrols had not made much difference.
"How many?" Eleanor asked, hiding in the same place.
"Three ahead of us." Martel pointed in the different directions. "Another three or four coming from that angle, against ours." He gestured to the left. "And another marksman that way." To the right.
"I kill near me," came the rusty Asterian from their Tyrian scout, hiding nearby. He took off, creeping through the undergrowth.
"You have to help our soldiers," Martel urged her. Once the Khivans went into close combat and drove the legionaries out, the sharpshooters in the trees would take them down with ease. "My wall won't stretch far enough to blind them all."
"I cannot leave you with three sharpshooters aiming at you!"
"The others will die if you don't help them. And you'll draw their attention," Martel pointed out. "I'll deal with them from the other side."
The mageknight at his side exhaled, slowing her breath. "Stay alive," she told him quietly. With a sharp inhalation, she leapt up and ran through the forest.
Trying to stay calm, Martel told himself this was no worse than the other patrols. The scout would deal with the one to his right. Eleanor would handle those outflanking them and draw at least one sharpshooter's attention. That just left two. He had plenty of spellpower. He would not die in this forsaken forest.
Steeling himself, Martel summoned his shield and got on his feet. Using his magical sense, he knew where to find his enemy and ran straight towards him. At the same time, a wall of flames shot up to block the line of sight for the other marksman nearby.
"Of course. The bullet didn't hit me, anyway. It flew right past me." Martel remembered flinching, the strange sensation of surprise at the bullet, even though he watched the Khivan fire his weapon. "I didn't feel it."
"If you were not hit, why would you?" Eleanor asked absentmindedly, snapping the Khivan's musket in two.
"No, the bullet. I always sense them. They're like the fire bolts back in the Circle of Fire. Even if they're too fast for me to evade, I sense them. But I didn't this time" Unnerved, Martel looked around until he saw where the projectile had hit. Missing him, it had buried itself into a tree behind him. Taking out his knife, he dug it out. As he held it in his hand, he felt dread. Not just because the ball was cold, like death, but because of what it signified.
"Martel, what is it?"
He turned around and let it fall into Eleanor's hand. "It's gold. That's a mage killer bullet."
"It is not just a suspicion then. They are hunting you."
Martel nodded slowly. "We must expect this from every Khivan who wears a pistol in his belt."
"Sir," the princeps interjected. "The men are restless. All that noise will have attracted any others that might be nearby."
"There is none," the Tyrian scout declared. "If more, I would see. That's why few numbers. Only way to make ambush."
"Sir," the princeps spoke while studiously ignoring the northerner, "there seems to be little reason to linger."
"Alright," Eleanor said, and she unclasped the brown cloak they wore for patrols. "Create stretchers. We will make our return." She glanced at Martel, speaking in a lowered voice as she continued, "We need to tell Sir Lara. Changing the day of our patrol clearly did nothing."
"We'll talk with her when we're back," Martel assented, even as he feared it would not do much. The Khivans had caught his scent, and they appeared to be relentless in their pursuit.
Chapter 540: Second ShotSecond ShotMartel sprinted through the forest. The sound of a musket firing reached him, and the bullet did a moment later as well, aimed at his back. His magical shield protected him, and he jumped to the other side of a small mound, providing him with cover. Evidently, changing the day of their patrols had not made much difference."How many?" Eleanor asked, hiding in the same place."Three ahead of us." Martel pointed in the different directions. "Another three or four coming from that angle, against ours." He gestured to the left. "And another marksman that way." To the right."I kill near me," came the rusty Asterian from their Tyrian scout, hiding nearby. He took off, creeping through the undergrowth."You have to help our soldiers," Martel urged her. Once the Khivans went into close combat and drove the legionaries out, the sharpshooters in the trees would take them down with ease. "My wall won't stretch far enough to blind them all.""I cannot leave you with three sharpshooters aiming at you!""The others will die if you don't help them. And you'll draw their attention," Martel pointed out. "I'll deal with them from the other side."The mageknight at his side exhaled, slowing her breath. "Stay alive," she told him quietly. With a sharp inhalation, she leapt up and ran through the forest.Trying to stay calm, Martel told himself this was no worse than the other patrols. The scout would deal with the one to his right. Eleanor would handle those outflanking them and draw at least one sharpshooter's attention. That just left two. He had plenty of spellpower. He would not die in this forsaken forest.Steeling himself, Martel summoned his shield and got on his feet. Using his magical sense, he knew where to find his enemy and ran straight towards him. At the same time, a wall of flames shot up to block the line of sight for the other marksman nearby."Of course. The bullet didn't hit me, anyway. It flew right past me." Martel remembered flinching, the strange sensation of surprise at the bullet, even though he watched the Khivan fire his weapon. "I didn't feel it.""If you were not hit, why would you?" Eleanor asked absentmindedly, snapping the Khivan's musket in two."No, the bullet. I always sense them. They're like the fire bolts back in the Circle of Fire. Even if they're too fast for me to evade, I sense them. But I didn't this time" Unnerved, Martel looked around until he saw where the projectile had hit. Missing him, it had buried itself into a tree behind him. Taking out his knife, he dug it out. As he held it in his hand, he felt dread. Not just because the ball was cold, like death, but because of what it signified."Martel, what is it?"He turned around and let it fall into Eleanor's hand. "It's gold. That's a mage killer bullet.""It is not just a suspicion then. They are hunting you."Martel nodded slowly. "We must expect this from every Khivan who wears a pistol in his belt.""Sir," the princeps interjected. "The men are restless. All that noise will have attracted any others that might be nearby.""There is none," the Tyrian scout declared. "If more, I would see. That's why few numbers. Only way to make ambush.""Sir," the princeps spoke while studiously ignoring the northerner, "there seems to be little reason to linger.""Alright," Eleanor said, and she unclasped the brown cloak they wore for patrols. "Create stretchers. We will make our return." She glanced at Martel, speaking in a lowered voice as she continued, "We need to tell Sir Lara. Changing the day of our patrol clearly did nothing.""We'll talk with her when we're back," Martel assented, even as he feared it would not do much. The Khivans had caught his scent, and they appeared to be relentless in their pursuit.
