Chapter 153: A Whole New World
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Getting to the city of Caleb proved a bit more problematic than expected. Not because they lacked options - Void would fly, of course. The question was, how could it bring Beatrice along as well?
The start had been a bit rocky. At first, Void had tried to lift her by her backpack straps, which soon became obviously untenable. The straps were designed to take load onto her shoulders, not lift her up.
The thin straps immediately cut off the blood flow to her arms. But that was nothing compared to the force exerted by the jets that Void used to propel itself. Her various repair skills were put to work fixing a singed section of her hair after a few minutes.
Then Void had decided that it was going to make her stand on top of it. Needless to say, she was extremely uncomfortable with the idea. The only saving grace was that they were a few hundred yards down the road and out of sight of the castle when that option came up. Even then, she had protested instantly, saying it was far beneath Void to carry anyone like this.
No matter what she said, it didn't seem to understand her arguments. It just asked her if she wanted to get to the city or not. Perhaps it knew time was of the essence even more than she did, so it was hard to argue. She didn't want to be the reason that Void was delayed. Slowing her master down might be even worse than standing on a god like a barrel racer.
Eventually, she caved and tried it. To her relief, that hadn't worked either; her balance was nowhere near enough to keep her upright. Void caught her as she tumbled off, setting her on the ground and preventing a nasty falling injury.
The final solution was her sitting on Void and gripping the edges of its disk-like body while its claw latched onto her pack. Then they were finally able to get off the ground.
As they started moving, air rushed past her and whipped her remaining hair about wildly. It made her eyes water, and if she didn't keep her lips pressed firmly shut, the sheer speed ballooned her cheeks and made them flap around. It was still awesome though. None of the discomforts offset the sheer sense of freedom as they rose into the sky and began soaring above the landscape.
Their ascent continued for some time. After just a minute, the details on the ground became difficult to make out, and the castle looked to be the size of her thumb. A small wavy line denoted the path leading through a dense forest out of the valley.
She was sure grateful that she didn't suffer from a fear of heights, as seeing the trees down below as the size of twigs would have been quite upsetting. But as long as she didn't think about falling or look down too much, it was wonderful.
A few moments later, a wave of condensed air slammed into me and my air shield with enough force to nearly halt my moment. Then the gatehouses on either side of the 48-foot tall metal gate crumbled, shooting dirt and debris everywhere. After standing still for a few seconds, the gate fell back into the city with a deafening clang.
That didn't look like it was supposed to happen.
—
Arthur cursed again as he looked down at the map table. His aid cowered in the corner, and his officers had already been dispatched. Their rushed conference hadn't slowed down the initial response, the NCOs were competent enough for that, but they had developed a basic defense strategy. Mostly they were relying on normal anti-undead tactics. It was time for him to go as well, but he couldn't figure out where it went wrong. What made the enemy change strategies so suddenly and completely?
They had traded a nearly sure long-term win for inflicting as much damage as they could in a short period of time. What did he not know? It had to be something big. Up until a few days ago, they had been working with much more familiar human tactics. It wasn't quite like a human army, but the undead were far less willing to risk troops than they should have been. It was as if their commander understood the value of them.
Now they acted like the undead again. Near-constant assaults had plagued the walls for days. They weren't very effective, but they were wearing the soldiers out. The scouts had never seen the hide nor hair of a necromancer, so Arthur still had no lead on who the commander was, a fact the scout captain had been extremely apologetic of. The man took pride in his work and took this as a personal challenge. A rat monster seemed to be in a prominent position, but they weren't known for their intelligence.
The commander clearly knew what he was doing after running a competent campaign for so long. So what had Arthur missed? Was it something to do with the wraith and shades that had shown up a week ago? Maybe, Harold had told him that the wraith might have the intelligence to coordinate this, but its instincts shouldn't have let it hold back.
Also, it was new; they would have noticed it and the shades earlier if they had been involved all along. That wasn't it. While they were incredibly dangerous threats, the aid from the undead mages' college couldn't have come at a better time. He supposed he owed Harold yet another drink. That man had pulled Arthur’s feet out of the fire too many times at this point.
That he had come with improved shade defenses was probably the only reason the city was still standing. They just weren't really the kind of foe an army could easily oppose, at least not when they were controlled by a higher being. That required magical knowledge.
The massive store of standard anti-undead potions and cures was also sorely needed. These advantages had let Arthur and his staff leverage each soldier better and get the men much-needed rest. Well, for a while. For all good that did them now. They had a day and a half before they were working even harder than before, repelling constant attacks. Every time he had an advantage, the field shifted such that the enemy could hold on just a little longer.
Resisting the urge to scatter the pieces off the table, he clenched his fist and signaled to the aid to follow. It was time to move to the forward command center. It seemed this siege was coming to an end one way or another.
Right as he marched out the door, an explosion rocked the city. Dropping the air of formality, Arthur began to run.