Chapter 384
And it was working.
Human pursuit forces became more cautious, moving in larger groups, checking cover before advancing.
Which slowed them down.
Which gave regular defenders more time to reach Third Line.
[Somewhere else in the battlefield]
Sithis didn’t run when the retreat order came.
He dropped prone in tall grass sixty yards from Second Line and activated his natural camouflage.
His serpentine scales shifted colors, matching the yellowed grass perfectly. He controlled his breathing, slowed his heart rate, became perfectly still.
Two hundred cavalry thundered past, literally within arm’s reach. None saw him.
A patrol of light infantry jogged past, searching for hidden enemies. They came within three feet of his position.
Sithis stopped breathing entirely, relying on serpentfolk ability to hold breath for extended periods.
The patrol passed.
He lay motionless for ninety minutes as human forces swept the area, searching for stragglers.
A soldier literally stepped on his tail at one point. Sithis didn’t move, didn’t react. The soldier didn’t notice, thinking it was just thick grass.
Only when pursuit forces moved past toward Third Line did Sithis begin moving again.
He crawled through grass for thirty minutes, moving with serpentine stealth, practically invisible.
Then he reached a small creek and slithered into the water, using it for concealment and faster movement.
Four hours after the retreat began, Sithis reached Third Line’s outer perimeter, having survived entirely through natural adaptation and patience.
He wasn’t the only one. Serpentfolk had evolved these survival skills over millennia. Their casualty rate during the retreat was the lowest of any settlement species.
The orc named Thorgak had taken a spear through his thigh during wall fighting. The wound was serious—bone possibly broken, definitely muscle damage.
He couldn’t run. Could barely walk.
When retreat orders came, he told the goblins helping him: "Leave me. Save yourselves."
"We don’t abandon comrades!" one goblin insisted.
"You not abandoning. I’m ordering." Thorgak’s voice carried orc authority. "I slow you down. Cavalry will catch us. I stay. Fight. Die. You run. Live."
The goblins hesitated, torn between loyalty and survival.
"GO!" Thorgak roared. "That’s order!"
They went.
Thorgak positioned himself behind a ruined cart, using it for cover. He had his battle axe and three javelins. That would do.
He waited.
Cavalry came within five minutes—a unit of eight riders hunting stragglers.
They saw the lone wounded orc and approached cautiously, having learned that wounded orcs were still dangerous.
Thorgak waited until they were forty feet away, then threw his first javelin.
The heavy missile struck a horse in the chest. The horse fell, throwing its rider.
Second javelin—thrown with desperate strength—caught another rider in the shoulder, knocking him from his mount.
Third javelin missed as the cavalry scattered.
Thorgak grabbed his battle axe and waited.
The remaining cavalry circled, using range weapons. Javelins flew at him. One struck his shoulder. Another hit his chest.
Thorgak was bleeding badly now. Vision blurring from blood loss.
A rider charged in for the kill.
Thorgak’s axe caught the horse’s legs, breaking bone. Horse and rider crashed down. Thorgak grabbed the fallen rider and crushed his throat with one massive hand.
Three riders down. Five remaining.
But Thorgak was dying. The chest wound was fatal—punctured lung, blood filling his chest cavity.
He fell to his knees, barely able to lift his axe.
The remaining cavalry surrounded him at safe distance and shot him with arrows until he stopped moving.
Thorgak died on his knees, covered in wounds, his axe still gripped in dead hands.
Behind him, the time he’d bought allowed eleven goblins and serpentfolk to reach Third Line safely.
—------------------------------------
The first defenders reached Third Line after forty minutes of running, fighting, and desperate survival.
They collapsed behind fortifications, gasping, bleeding, exhausted beyond measure.
Jessica’s medical teams immediately began triage, pulling the most wounded into treatment areas.
More defenders trickled in over the next hour—small groups, individuals, wounded helping wounded.
Commander Vex’ahlia arrived with nine of her eighteen elites. The others had been lost providing rear guard.
She collapsed against a wall, both shoulders wounded, purple-tinted face gray with blood loss.
Jessica ran to her. "Commander! You need immediate treatment!"
"Others... first..." Vex’ahlia managed. "I can... wait..."
"You’ll bleed to death if I wait! Hold still!"
Kelvin arrived fifteen minutes later, carried by two goblins. His shoulder wound had reopened during the retreat. Blood soaked his entire left side.
"Is... everyone... out?" he gasped.
"Still coming in," Jessica said while binding his wounds. "You did well. Your sector had good evacuation rate."
"How many... lost?"
Jessica’s expression said it all.
Skar arrived with forty serpentfolk out of the original sixty-nine who’d started the day. His species’ natural abilities had saved lives during retreat.
"Sssettlement defenders?" he hissed.
"Still arriving. We’ll have full count in another hour."
The settlement defenders kept trickling in, exhausted and wounded.
But they were alive.
—-------------
Lyra stood with Seraphina in a concealed position near Third Line’s gates, watching human pursuit forces approach.
The settlement defenders had retreated exactly as planned.
The human forces had pursued exactly as anticipated.
And now they were approaching Third Line’s walls—approximately eight hundred soldiers in scattered pursuit formations, having chased defenders across two miles of open terrain.
"Are your corruption specialists in position?" Lyra asked quietly.
"Yes. Two hundred corruption casters positioned in concealed locations around Third Line’s outer perimeter. They’ve been preparing the ritual while defenders evacuated."
"Range?"
"Three hundred yard radius from Third Line’s gates. Any human soldier within that range when the spell activates will be affected."
"How long can they hold it?"
"Ninety seconds. After that, the magical contamination will begin dissipating."
"Ninety seconds is enough." Lyra watched human forces moving into the kill zone. "How many are in range now?"
"Approximately six hundred soldiers."
"Are all our defenders clear?"
"Last group just passed through the gates. Everyone’s inside Third Line now."
Lyra nodded. "Activate the spell."
—-------------------
Hidden in buildings, underground passages, and concealed positions around Third Line, two hundred corruption specialists began casting simultaneously.
These weren’t combat fighters. They were specialists trained specifically in curse magic, contamination spells, and area-effect corruption.