Chapter 609: Lambs to the Slaughter

Chapter 609: Lambs to the Slaughter

Lambs to the Slaughter

The sentinels spied the returning legionaries from afar. Even from a distance, it could be seen that they had reduced numbers, which drew many to the walls, watching and speculating loudly what had happened. Sharp commands from Avery sent them scurrying back to their tents or duties; as the mageknight descended from the ramparts, she exchanged a look with Martel and Eleanor but said nothing.

***

Marching back into the camp, the legionaries had the weary, subdued mood of soldiers returning from a battle gone awry. Martel cast a look from the walls down at the pasture; he could not count the remaining horses at a glance, but their number was certainly less than two hundred.

Once the column of soldiers was all safely back inside the defences, the prefects gathered in the decurions tent. Silently, three of them looked at Valerius and Dominic, awaiting explanations.

We were outnumbered, the decurion finally said, and he practically fell down to sit on his cot. He had bruises on his faces, and his armour looked torn in places. We made sure to advance much further south, far from where you met their blasted cannon. They could not possibly have moved it fast enough to where we approached the forest.

It does not matter when they had another, Valerius remarked. Unlike his fellow prefect, he appeared in better condition; dirty from battle but not wounded as such.

How could they have known to expect us that far south? Just how many cannons do these Nether-born bastards haul around? The first spray of metal slaughtered the horses from under us, Dominic lamented.

Followed up by a barrage of bullets. We closed the gap and made them pay, Valerius related, but it seems foolish to hope their losses equalled ours.

How did the battle conclude? Avery asked; she always wore a serious expression, but now she looked downright grave.

Darkness came. We both retreated. Nothing further to be won, so we came back here, Valerius explained. We must have lost over a hundred men. Twice that are wounded.

What should we do? Eleanor asked, directing her question at Avery.

Martel woke in the night to the sound of muskets firing. His heart drummed at double speed, and he almost summoned fire right where he was until he realised it came from far away, and he was in his tent with Eleanor on the other side of the divide. She stirred as well. Both of them crawled out and got up, looking at each other. Around them, the camp was likewise being rustled awake, with shouts and people running about, adding more confusion.

The sounds are coming from the west, Eleanor said, and they both turned their eyes in that direction, though the darkness prevented them from seeing much.

Each picking up their weapon, they ran toward the noise. Many others had done the same, crowding the ramparts around the gate. Pushing their way forward, the two mages made it up to the wall and stared into the dark beyond the camp.

Martel crouched a little to be smaller behind the wall, aware he was not wearing any armour. He let his magic sweep out to sense any heat, but he only felt the horses in the pasture. Nothing that suggested humans hiding in the dark unless they hid among the beasts, of course. They were clearly upset, making frightful sounds; the noise of muskets firing had to be terrifying to them.

Do you sense anything? Eleanor asked, knowing what Martel was doing.

Just the horses. They might be among them, but that seems foolish. All the noise is scaring the animals. Could this be a diversion? he suddenly realised.

Maybe. They are attracting a lot of attention, she considered.

The shots continued intermittently. Based on how fast Khivan musketmen could reload, Martel estimated no more than five or six. This is a ruse, he muttered. They are going to assault us elsewhere, probably the other gate. We should get in armour.

Agreed. Though rather than walk away, Eleanor squinted out in the dark. That sound are the horses kicking up against the fence?

Its not a diversion, Martel finally understood. Theyre shooting our mounts.

***

By the time Eleanor and Martel had donned their armour and returned to the gate, the Khivans had already withdrawn. No further shots were fired; they had done the damage as intended and made their retreat. Just to be sure, the two mages did a swift investigation in the immediate area, and Martel put his magical sense to use in the dark; all enemies had retreated, leaving only scores of carcasses and the smell of blood behind.