Chapter 563: Fireflies in the Night
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Chapter 563: Fireflies in the Night
Fireflies in the Night
The walls held until nightfall. Whether they would continue to do so, nobody could say; Martel was the only one with the least bit of knowledge concerning enchantment, and even he dared not guess.
Outside their tent, the battlemage and his protector prepared for their task. They covered all metal to prevent any reflection of moonlight; Martel dearly wished he knew how to conjure clouds. He left behind his staff, and Eleanor her shield; raw magic would have to do, whether in terms of offence or defence.
Despite the dark, the cannons did not become silent. The Khivans knew their munition would hit the target. While this meant the enemy soldiers were active and alert, it also afforded Martel the only chance he had to do something; the heat from the constant firing would leave the cannon barrels hot, allowing him to find them with his magic.
Going through the gate would be too obvious to spot; instead, the mages used a rope to descend the northern wall, down into the ditch below. Crouching, they followed it until north met east and they could see the occasional flash of fire, each time the cannons roared.
Exchanging looks, Eleanor crawled out of the ditch as the first. Martel followed behind her. On their stomachs, they inched their way across the grass. The darkness did not allow them to discern much, not even the treeline somewhere ahead, but the sight and sound of the cannons guided them forward.
Despite the cold, Martel felt sweat on his brow. He could handle combat when it happened instinctively; his magic seemed to react faster than his mind, and any fear was suppressed by the feeling of elation as he unleashed his powers.
This, the slow anticipation of unavoidable battle building up inside of him, it made him feel nauseated. He clamped his mouth shut out of fear that he would suddenly throw up, revealing their position.
They had crawled more half the distance, somewhere beyond a hundred feet, when Eleanor began to stop every other moment to let Martel test his reach; each time he found it lacking and the cannons beyond his range, he would touch the heel of her boot, and she crept forward another ten or fifteen feet.
***
Valerius awaited them upon their return along with all five of his centurions. They laughed and applauded, shouting the praises of the battlemage and his protector.
"Most impressive, Sir Martel!" The mageknight's face practically glowed with relief. "Now that you have silenced their cannons, they have no hope to reach our defences. And if they attempt some half-hearted assault, we shall gladly throw them back."
"I failed," Martel murmured. Realising his words had not penetrated the noise, he repeated more loudly, "I failed."
Valerius stared at him, confused. "But the cannons have stopped."
"I was only able to destroy two. They pulled the third to safety. Once morning comes, and they can be certain the clearing is empty, they will resume battering down the wall. We are still in danger."
His words had the expected effect on the boisterous mood, as the officers fell silent. "One cannon works much slower than three," Eleanor finally said. "If nothing else, this has bought us time."
"Yes, that is true." Valerius patted Martel on the shoulder. "You have bought us time."
"We have until morning, at the very least." Eleanor looked at Martel. "We should rest. Be as prepared as we can be."
He could not argue against that.
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Chapter 563: Fireflies in the Night
Fireflies in the Night
The walls held until nightfall. Whether they would continue to do so, nobody could say; Martel was the only one with the least bit of knowledge concerning enchantment, and even he dared not guess.
Outside their tent, the battlemage and his protector prepared for their task. They covered all metal to prevent any reflection of moonlight; Martel dearly wished he knew how to conjure clouds. He left behind his staff, and Eleanor her shield; raw magic would have to do, whether in terms of offence or defence.
Despite the dark, the cannons did not become silent. The Khivans knew their munition would hit the target. While this meant the enemy soldiers were active and alert, it also afforded Martel the only chance he had to do something; the heat from the constant firing would leave the cannon barrels hot, allowing him to find them with his magic.
Going through the gate would be too obvious to spot; instead, the mages used a rope to descend the northern wall, down into the ditch below. Crouching, they followed it until north met east and they could see the occasional flash of fire, each time the cannons roared.
Exchanging looks, Eleanor crawled out of the ditch as the first. Martel followed behind her. On their stomachs, they inched their way across the grass. The darkness did not allow them to discern much, not even the treeline somewhere ahead, but the sight and sound of the cannons guided them forward.
Despite the cold, Martel felt sweat on his brow. He could handle combat when it happened instinctively; his magic seemed to react faster than his mind, and any fear was suppressed by the feeling of elation as he unleashed his powers.
This, the slow anticipation of unavoidable battle building up inside of him, it made him feel nauseated. He clamped his mouth shut out of fear that he would suddenly throw up, revealing their position.
They had crawled more half the distance, somewhere beyond a hundred feet, when Eleanor began to stop every other moment to let Martel test his reach; each time he found it lacking and the cannons beyond his range, he would touch the heel of her boot, and she crept forward another ten or fifteen feet.
***
Valerius awaited them upon their return along with all five of his centurions. They laughed and applauded, shouting the praises of the battlemage and his protector.
"Most impressive, Sir Martel!" The mageknight's face practically glowed with relief. "Now that you have silenced their cannons, they have no hope to reach our defences. And if they attempt some half-hearted assault, we shall gladly throw them back."
"I failed," Martel murmured. Realising his words had not penetrated the noise, he repeated more loudly, "I failed."
Valerius stared at him, confused. "But the cannons have stopped."
"I was only able to destroy two. They pulled the third to safety. Once morning comes, and they can be certain the clearing is empty, they will resume battering down the wall. We are still in danger."
His words had the expected effect on the boisterous mood, as the officers fell silent. "One cannon works much slower than three," Eleanor finally said. "If nothing else, this has bought us time."
"Yes, that is true." Valerius patted Martel on the shoulder. "You have bought us time."
"We have until morning, at the very least." Eleanor looked at Martel. "We should rest. Be as prepared as we can be."
He could not argue against that.
Chapter 563: Fireflies in the NightFireflies in the NightThe walls held until nightfall. Whether they would continue to do so, nobody could say; Martel was the only one with the least bit of knowledge concerning enchantment, and even he dared not guess.Outside their tent, the battlemage and his protector prepared for their task. They covered all metal to prevent any reflection of moonlight; Martel dearly wished he knew how to conjure clouds. He left behind his staff, and Eleanor her shield; raw magic would have to do, whether in terms of offence or defence.Despite the dark, the cannons did not become silent. The Khivans knew their munition would hit the target. While this meant the enemy soldiers were active and alert, it also afforded Martel the only chance he had to do something; the heat from the constant firing would leave the cannon barrels hot, allowing him to find them with his magic.Going through the gate would be too obvious to spot; instead, the mages used a rope to descend the northern wall, down into the ditch below. Crouching, they followed it until north met east and they could see the occasional flash of fire, each time the cannons roared.Exchanging looks, Eleanor crawled out of the ditch as the first. Martel followed behind her. On their stomachs, they inched their way across the grass. The darkness did not allow them to discern much, not even the treeline somewhere ahead, but the sight and sound of the cannons guided them forward.Despite the cold, Martel felt sweat on his brow. He could handle combat when it happened instinctively; his magic seemed to react faster than his mind, and any fear was suppressed by the feeling of elation as he unleashed his powers.This, the slow anticipation of unavoidable battle building up inside of him, it made him feel nauseated. He clamped his mouth shut out of fear that he would suddenly throw up, revealing their position.They had crawled more half the distance, somewhere beyond a hundred feet, when Eleanor began to stop every other moment to let Martel test his reach; each time he found it lacking and the cannons beyond his range, he would touch the heel of her boot, and she crept forward another ten or fifteen feet.***Valerius awaited them upon their return along with all five of his centurions. They laughed and applauded, shouting the praises of the battlemage and his protector."Most impressive, Sir Martel!" The mageknight's face practically glowed with relief. "Now that you have silenced their cannons, they have no hope to reach our defences. And if they attempt some half-hearted assault, we shall gladly throw them back.""I failed," Martel murmured. Realising his words had not penetrated the noise, he repeated more loudly, "I failed."Valerius stared at him, confused. "But the cannons have stopped.""I was only able to destroy two. They pulled the third to safety. Once morning comes, and they can be certain the clearing is empty, they will resume battering down the wall. We are still in danger."His words had the expected effect on the boisterous mood, as the officers fell silent. "One cannon works much slower than three," Eleanor finally said. "If nothing else, this has bought us time.""Yes, that is true." Valerius patted Martel on the shoulder. "You have bought us time.""We have until morning, at the very least." Eleanor looked at Martel. "We should rest. Be as prepared as we can be."He could not argue against that.
