B4 Chapter 30: Following the Leader
B4 Chapter 30: Following the Leader
The Third Legion responded to Quintus's call, rallying around him. Together they pressed toward the most embattled sections of their formation, striking at enemies both above and below as they moved. [Sure Footing] and [Warpath] ensured that he was able to move quickly across the terrain, enough that he momentarily worried about outpacing his men. But the issue was moot. [Lead From the Front] allowed his men to benefit somewhat from the effects of his own skills. And considering the size of the group with him, they formed a moving bastion of more stable terrain that didn't fully disappear in their wake.
As they fought, his head swiveled to take in the battlefield. He could practically feel its ebb and flow around him---places where the enemy sought to make a beachhead, spots where his men were rallying most effectively, areas that were beginning to form into battle lines... He felt it all with a strange sense of clarity even as he fought. Orders burst from his lips in a constant stream that sought to shift the tides and nudge that flow in a more favorable direction.
His feet soon found purchase on solid ground conjured by an earthshaper, the walls of an in-progress outpost materializing atop it. A trio of worms burst from the sand nearby to dive toward the walls and the Legionnaires constructing them. Quintus and his group charged forward, intercepting the worms.
The monsters hit the [Coordinated Bulwark] with the force of a battering ram. But it held. The trio fell to the ground, trying to wriggle back into the sand, but found themselves unable to push through the stone beneath them. Quintus and his men filled them with more holes and slashes than a ratty old pincushion, their ichor seeping into the stone below.
"We rally here!" Quintus repeated. "To me!"
More and more Legionnaires began falling back to their position. The men who'd already made it to the outpost covered their retreat as best they could by providing covering fire or moving forward to reinforce a retreating formation. Explosions and the crack of gunfire shattered the air and sent shimmering forms plummeting toward the ground. There were still plenty of cold stabs to indicate the death of a comrade. But they came slower now.
Quintus practically leapt up the walls of the outpost. He cast his attention beyond the immediate battlefield, scanning the horizon. The heat caused it to shimmer like a mirage in every direction. Still, he continued looking. These monsters weren't coordinating themselves. They were being directed by someone or something. A commander. If he could only find it...
His eyes narrowed at one particular stretch of dunes. There was nothing to obviously differentiate them from any others. Still, something seemed off about them, and he'd learned to trust his instincts when it came to such things. Superstition and paranoia had their place in keeping a soldier alive.
He leapt higher, climbing the towers his men continued to build, then higher into the sky as though on an invisible staircase. He climbed until he could see beyond the thin facade of the mirage. That's when he saw it. An army on the march. Even from this distance, the shifting of many bodies together was unmistakable.
Quintus swore under his breath. They'd found their enemy, all right. He kicked himself for not picking up some sort of vision skill to make out their details more acutely. But even from here, he could glean a few details. They were relatively disorganized, somewhere between a stampede and a herded flock. Their route was aimed directly toward the Third Legion, though the long tail of troops behind them indicated they hadn't initially been headed in that direction precisely. It seemed that they might have been angling toward a different section of the forest border.
An invasion, then. Just as Sylendor had feared. And Quintus was just lucky enough to stand between them and the elves. Based on their speed, they wouldn't take long to arrive, and outrunning them was not an option. Which meant they would have to fight.
His scouting trip was interrupted as another mirage bird attempted to snatch him out of the air. He parried its claws with his gladius before grabbing its leg and twisting. He felt its hollow bones snap in his grip. It screeched as he spun in midair, kicking off the air above to throw the bird bodily downward as he stabbed.
Quintus and the limp form of the bird rocketed toward the ground. He landed atop it, sandaled feet smashing through its carcass as it cushioned his landing and showered the Legionnaires around him in feathers and blood. He'd barely touched down before he was already shouting.
"Incoming forces!" He called. "Prepare the defenses! All cohorts, fall back behind the walls!"
This army was not something they could face out in the open. Not while having to worry about threats from above and below. They'd need to build out more fortifications, and fast. Otherwise, they would quickly find themselves overwhelmed.
Thankfully, the veterans were wasting no time in that regard. Already the fortifications were developing from a basic skeleton to something more durable. A second, larger ring was busily being erected around the first as the Legionnaires pushed to expand their outpost. Ranged fighters took up positions atop the walls to better assist their brethren on the ground and take out scores of the annoying birds above. And not a moment too soon. The scorpions that had been harrying the edges of their army managed to break through in one spot, coordinating with a swarm of worms to take out an entire contubernium in one fell swoop.
Quintus gritted his teeth and directed men toward the spot. He had to prevent as many losses as possible. They were able to manage an organized retreat so far, but he had to be wary of things devolving into a rout. That was when men died.
He continued directing the battle for a few moments before diving into the fray once again. He led a small contingent of Legionnaires around the battlefield, assisting those who were isolated or having the most trouble falling back. [Lead From The Front] did wonders for moving men away quickly. As they moved, he also noticed the telltale signs of [Warpath] made roads left in their wake, though calling them roads was quite generous. They were more akin to spiraling, drunken collections of hardened sand that weaved across the battlefield. Still, it was something.
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After a bloody fifteen minutes of desperate battle, the Legionnaires slowly and methodically pulled back behind the defenses. A scattered field of corpses lay in every direction, the vast majority of them monsters. But not all of them.
Quintus momentarily rued the lack of a class stone. He was certain that his fresh Legionnaires would have gotten at least one level by now, given the sheer number of enemies they'd fought and their levels. Something they could really use right now. The higher-level veterans wouldn't get the same benefits for a while yet, of course, not until the others caught up. But they may well have gotten more skill levels too.
But it was useless to hope for such things. Quintus ushered the last group of Legionnaires behind the walls just as the approaching army crested the nearest dune. Chittering and roars filled the air as the mob accelerated toward the walls, a tide of chitin and fur and scales loosely grouped into some kind of incomprehensible units. He dashed forward, his men just ahead as the earthshapers slammed a slab of stone up to close the entrance.
Quintus panted as he began to climb one of the towers. This battle was proving to be far more complicated than initially planned. Worse, they were running into an issue he hadn't expected---stamina drain. Even now, he could feel the dip in his own energy reserves borne of such rapid skill use.
It had rarely been a problem with the First Legion. When they'd been low level, they had relied mostly on their own abilities and tactics to fight battles, with skills serving as a supplement to those. Now, skills formed a huge backbone of their battle strategy. Nearly every century and cohort had at least a few that were actively used in every conflict.
Worse, this battle had engaged practically every single man, leaving barely any opportunity for men to rest or recover. Combined with the sheer scale of undertaking required to make these fortifications... The only reason they were all still standing was likely due to the veterans' high skill levels allowing them to get away with lower stamina use. If things continued like this, they might have to ration skill use. Otherwise, they would all drop like flies as soon as the last drop of stamina was used.
When he reached the top, he saw that the enemy forces had shifted. A kind of long-haired boar of some sort had moved near the front to assault the walls with its tusks as long, thin lizards scurried up the sides. Now that they were closer, the sheer scale of the army at their doorstep became a lot more clear. There were too many. Far too many.
Perhaps they could hold out in a defensive fight, protecting their position for hours or even days if they were smart about rotating their men out. But they were still in the middle of enemy territory. Even if they held out, who was to say more reinforcements wouldn't be on their way? Ones that could surround them and starve them out, if they proved patient enough.
Quintus didn't allow the uncertainty to show on his face. Not in front of his men. That would be the worst betrayal a commander could commit. Instead, he began shuffling about the men atop the walls, ensuring the ranged fighters had a layer of protection against the incoming lizards and sending men to reinforce the walls on the ground.
Wave after wave of rifle fire filled the air as the Legionnaires worked to mow down their foes. The more sustained bursts of the repeating firearms filled the space between volleys, their numbers fewer since they only had so many of the things. The engineers hadn't had time to make more of their newest inventions. A few men added their sling stones to the mix, although the projectiles were a pittance compared to the others. They were a far less popular weapon in this world, meaning these men didn't grow up using them as children. Combined with the other, easier alternatives available, the new troops weren't as well-trained in that regard as he would have liked.
It wasn't long before every inch of the walls was filled with Legionnaires hurling death at their foes. The walls themselves rattled under the assault, but continued to hold. For now.
"Sir," one of his officers appeared beside him. "Permission to use the cannons is being requested by the centurions."
Quintus glanced back. The thick tubes of stone, apparently called cannons in this world, were already being moved to more advantageous positions around the outpost. They only had so much ammunition for the things, and he'd been hoping to keep them for emergency situations. Then again, what was this if not such an emergency?
"Do it." He ordered. "How much ammunition do we have?"
"A few hundred of the explosive iron balls. We can stretch them to triple that if we put the men with [Duplicate Ammo] on the tubes, but it will drain our stamina quite a bit. The earthshapers will be able to produce standard stone projectiles so long as they have stamina to do it."
Another officer, one in charge of the engineers, grimaced at the statement. "These aren't the same sling tubes we slapped together in the west. These are upgraded models. The new runes and output are liable to shatter any standard rocks you try and fire in them."
"Grapeshot?" Quintus asked. "These enemies lack armor from what I can tell."
The man hesitated. "We don't have a lot of that, either. But it should work."
"Then collect whatever metal you can from the men and make more. Cups and forks won't be useful to us if we're all dead. See about collecting the talons of those birds, too, if need be."
The men saluted and began shouting orders. Already he could feel the pressure of limited resources weighing down on him. But it would help. If nothing else, it would take some pressure off of them and allow them to solidify their foothold further. He only wished they’d been able to cut down some of the elves’ trees for siege weaponry.
But this assault would only be a temporary measure. It wouldn't solve the problem altogether.
Once again, he began scanning the army before him. The writhing mass of bodies shifted below, filled with purpose and tightly controlled violence. Yet even now, he could see that their teamwork wasn't nearly as seamless as he'd initially thought. Rather than working together, the enemies seemed to ignore each other. He saw more than one group of lizards be accidentally trampled by the boars, turning to hiss at the things before their eyes glazed over and they returned to their mission.
Whatever was keeping them together, it wasn't a shared sense of camaraderie. If he could only identify the source...
There. Near the back of the group, he saw them. A collection of tall, bipedal creatures with curled horns and sandy fur across their entire bodies. They wore tattered cloaks that shifted subtly like the feathers of those mirage birds.
Some of them were moving through the army and toward the fort. But there were others as well, ones that remained in the back and made odd bleating sounds at the nearby creatures. Every one was well-defended by a dense grouping of enemy forces. Especially the one in the center, which clutched a gnarled staff that glowed with light.
He couldn't be certain. But that certainly looked like a leader if he'd ever seen one.
Quintus nodded and drew his blade. The rearmost commanders would be nigh on impossible to reach, especially if they wanted to repel the incoming assault as well. He would need an opening to get there. Fortunately, it sounded like he was about to get one.
His scouts were already warning his men of the incoming assault. But repelling it wouldn't be enough. If he wanted to win this battle, he'd have to do what he always did and lead from the front.