B4 Chapter 29: Ambush Predators
B4 Chapter 29: Ambush Predators
The Legion snapped into action. Men who had already been regrouping after the sudden appearance of the massive worm readied their spears, slings, and firearms, taking aim at the pillar of flesh before them. A veritable deluge of attacks arced toward the monster's head even as it turned to dive back into the sand, sending gouts of sickly green ichor spilling across its hide. It screeched, a high-pitched sound of unearthly rage and pain, soon muffled as it disappeared below the dunes in a plume of sand. A trio of Legionnaires narrowly avoided being its next meal as they were pulled aside by their comrades.
The men halted their ranged attacks as it descended, wary of friendly fire. Those within melee range took advantage to strike at the retreating beast's hide with their spears. Entire sections of its side exploded or were simply filleted open as skills made contact. Six of the Legionnaires stabbed forward in unison, angling their spears upward and bracing them against the sandy ground as they slowed the thing's retreat. The resulting screech was audible even below the ground.
More and more attacks hacked away at the worm as the spears wedged ever deeper, threatening to disappear beneath the sands with them. Quintus could see the looks of consternation as the spears glowed with some sort of anchoring skill. Then, with one final mighty thrash, the beast shuddered and went still.
Yet the rumbling didn't stop. Before they even had a chance to breathe, his aquilifer was already shouting. "More incoming, sir!"
"Brace!" Quintus imbued the word with meaning, indicating the general areas that [Tactician's Awareness] alerted him would soon be in danger. The careful formations of Legionnaires broke apart and reformed in clusters just as dozens more gouts of sand erupted.
The same scene played out across the battlefield over and over again. The worms varied in level and size, some of them proving hardy enough to escape their demise on their initial emergence. Still, the churning of bodies beneath the surface turned the already unstable footing of the sands into something far more treacherous.
Thankfully, that wasn't a problem for Quintus. Nor did it trouble the other men who had taken [Sure Footing] as a skill. Still, they were in the minority. Plenty of men were sent stumbling as the ground unexpectedly shifted beneath their feet, weakening their blows and the integrity of their walls until they managed to adjust.
"There!" He heard a scout shout, one hand laid across the sand. The other pointed to some spot beneath the surface, tracing an unseen shape as it slithered away.
Quintus turned. "Mages!"
A group of Legionnaires chanted quickly, then slammed their palms on the ground. A deep whump sounded as the very ground itself seemed to inflate beneath them. The sudden impact sent an entire century stumbling and off-balance, but only for a moment. Once it settled, the scout gave a sharp nod before the entire group darted off to repeat the process anew.
Quintus spun in place, shouting orders across the battlefield as worms continued to emerge. The rest of his scouts took up positions around the Legion, tracking the worms that had yet to emerge and helping the mages to target them. A century of demolitions experts began tossing explosives into the mouths of the breaching monsters, resulting in a few almost festive sprays of ichor and flesh as they detonated.
He focused on keeping his own men intact. Despite the surprise of the ambush, it didn't seem as though they'd taken too many losses yet. Still, what had they stumbled across? A nest? Some migrating group of the things? Or something else?
A screech sounded from above. Quintus snapped his head up just in time to see a razor-sharp beak spearing toward his head. He ducked, instinctively activating [Rend] and [Tear] as he whipped his blade toward the creature.
The screech abruptly cut off as his vision filled with blood and shimmering feathers. What little remained of the man-sized bird spattered lifelessly at his feet, one clawed leg twitching involuntarily.
"Scouts! Above!" Quintus shouted in warning, already pivoting to strike down another. All around him, more of the feathered beasts dove down at the Legionnaires, each one seeming to appear out of thin air. Their forms rippled like mirages, difficult to focus on even when he knew to look.
The air filled with the sound of screeching and the squealing of talons against shields. Most of the Legionnaires managed to form a wall in time to deflect the assault. But not all were quite so lucky. The birds ripped away the shields of those caught unawares, and he saw medics rush forward as men took gashes across their arms and chests. More aimed their attacks skyward as the massive beasts tried to carry disarmed Legionnaires away in their talons.
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He felt the icy stabs of dying men in his gut. The situation was suddenly much more complicated. They faced attacks from both above and below simultaneously. They couldn't cluster into defensive formations for fear that the worms would swallow them from below. However, remaining separated would allow the birds to continue tearing through their ranks.
"Contuberniums, form up!" Quintus shouted over the din. They needed to maximize their defensive abilities while maintaining mobility. It wouldn't be as impenetrable as a full wall, but it would keep them from getting picked off one by one. He had the centurions work to ensure no group became completely isolated so that they could join together if needed. Something that soon became relevant.
The worms continued to erupt from below. Now that the Legionnaires had their attention split, Quintus saw his men struggling to manage this new foe. Already, men were working to fortify their position, solidifying the ground beneath their feet with skills and building whatever fortifications they could in the midst of battle. Earth mages conjured solid rock bases for watchtowers that sprang up with astonishing speed.
Unfortunately, the veterans were the only ones with high enough skill levels to manage such work in the midst of an active battlefield. However, the newer Legionnaires were doing an admirable job of keeping the enemy off their backs as they worked. Still, it would take time.
His skill pinged in warning just before the sand around their perimeter began shifting to reveal new shapes. A shout rose up as scorpion-like creatures the size of horses, their carapaces gleaming a sinister golden color, began to emerge. They scuttled forward to snap at the Legionnaires on the edge as they struggled to establish a wall against them.
This was the true ambush, he realized. It was just as Sylendor had said. The beasts were working together. Not because they displayed some uncanny intelligence. From what he saw, their coordination seemed to be a rough thing, only slightly better than the orcs who had charged in a general direction at their commanders' orders. But their tactics were clearly the work of someone with intelligence. Some strategist leading from afar.
He immediately began scanning for any sort of commander. He was about to order the scouts to do the same, but they already had their hands full keeping the men from getting eaten or blindsided by yet another group of enemies. There was only so much he could do. So much they could do.
A shadow fell over Quintus. He heard a man nearby scream as one of the birds dove down and snatched his shield away, followed by another bodily lifting him into the air. Quintus swore under his breath. Without a moment of hesitation, he launched himself toward the retreating bird, his [Sure Footing] finding purchase on the dry desert air. His windblade leaped from his sheath to slice clean through the bird's wing. It screeched in pain, the Legionnaire it had grabbed turning to thrust his gladius into its chest as the pair spiraled toward the ground in a tangled mess.
Quintus didn't watch them go. Instead, he turned his attention to the area below his feet. Specifically, the massive maw surging toward his airborne form.
He scowled, turning his invisible blade in his grip and willing it to lengthen. He began to fall, plunging toward the desert worm as he activated his offensive skills.
The gaping maw tore apart before his very eyes. Teeth and gore swirled around him, the carnage preceding him as though he were at the epicenter of a tornado. Quintus rocketed toward the earth, pivoting in midair as he neared the spot of sand the beast had emerged from. He rolled onto the sand nearby as bits of flesh and ichor rained down upon him.
Quintus glanced around to see a handful of fresh Legionnaires staring at him with awe.
"Close your traps and focus!" He snapped. "Or did you forget this is a battlefield?!"
The chastised men flushed slightly, nodding as they returned their attention to the fight. Yet even in the brief instant he watched, he could tell that their movements were much faster than even moments before. Not just theirs, either. He could feel the entire Legion moving with even more cohesion and speed than before, beyond even what [Unity] tended to grant. It wasn't because of his aquilifer's buffs and auras, though those were assisting him and those nearby. No, this was more widespread.
It took him a moment to realize the source. It was himself. [Lead From The Front] had activated as he killed those beasts, imbuing his men with a portion of his own power and improving them further.
The thought gave him pause. He'd been considering replacing the skill. He was a Legatus now, after all. A tactician, not one to bodily lead his men into battle and strike down foes himself. That was the role of a centurion. He had only kept it due to its value when training his men and demonstrating different formations to his centurions.
And yet... why couldn't he lead from the front? That wasn't how any Legatus he'd ever known did things. But then, they hadn't been in this situation, this impossible world he found himself in.
Quintus scanned the horizon. There was something there, something that shifted more than a simple mirage could explain. At the same time, he could feel the effects of the skill slowly begin to wane.
He made a decision. Blade in hand, he shouted to his aides and the clustered contubernia of men nearby. "To me! Rally on me, brothers!"
He was a Legatus, true. But that didn't mean he would be an easy target. Something he'd make sure the enemy found out rather quickly.