B4 Chapter 31: Forgotten Magic
B4 Chapter 31: Forgotten Magic
Quintus rounded up a strike force of two hundred highly mobile men---scouts, messengers, and veterans with high-level marching abilities for the most part. Speed was the most important part of this mission, and though overwhelming might could allow them to break through the enemy, it would come at a far steeper cost. No, far more efficient to move past. Once they had an opening.
"Get ready to move!" He shouted. The Legionnaires formed into a wedge, leaving him a place at the tip as sling tubes were maneuvered in place. If the coming assault didn't manage to punch a path through the enemy completely, they would have to do it themselves. And considering just how far away the enemy commanders were, he suspected it would be necessary.
Standing atop one tall tower, he looked across his officers with a solemn nod. "We will need all the covering fire you can provide. Seal the walls again after we press forward. I expect the enemy to scatter after their commanders are taken out, or better yet, turn on themselves."
"Aquilifer Octavius will accompany you." One of the officers said.
"No," Quintus shut him down. "I will not put our standard in such a vulnerable position."
The man barked a laugh. "And you think putting our Legatus at risk is any less dangerous? Taking him with you is more liable to keep you alive than get him killed. If you were to fall..."
Quintus grimaced. They had yet to find out what would happen if a Legatus died, given the strange capabilities of the Legion, nothing good. But he had to take the gamble. Better a swift death with the possibility of victory than a slow, inevitable defeat.
Someone shouted nearby. He tensed, readying his windblade to tear through an ambush of mirage hawks. Then---
---The sky itself cracked open. A dark, thin slit ran across the sky from one horizon to the next as though reality itself had been sliced through with an ebony blade. Then the slit opened, revealing a singular orb of impossible size. A massive eye.
Quintus froze in place at the sight as he felt the battlefield go still. A hallucination? He felt the men around him do the same, so it wasn't just his own mind playing tricks. Then what? A skill? Some curious god looking down upon their battle?
The massive eye lazily rolled in its socket. Quintus felt fear for a moment that it would choose to rest its gaze upon him. But it didn't. Instead, it focused on some unseen point in the ground beyond the walls. Then, just as soon as it appeared, the eye was gone. Clear blue skies filled the world above once again.
He quickly mastered himself to take stock of the battlefield, but found that the enemy hadn't taken the development much better. The monsters outside their walls had gone still, their many heads still looking upward like prey rendered immobile by a predator's gaze.
Suddenly, the ground beneath the enemy erupted, not with worms and sand, but with tentacles of inky black. They rushed upward, ensnaring the enemy's forces. The formerly still battlefield erupted with screams of animalistic terror as the beast army were dragged into the very sand they called their home.
A full third of the army disappeared in a matter of moments. The remainder trembled in place, as though moving would draw the attention of whatever horrors were consuming their brethren. Fortunately for them, the effects did not spread any further. A large empty swath now stood just outside of the Legionnaires' walls, the shifting sands already working to erase any evidence of those who stood there before.
A loud cackle broke the silence. "Success! Even better than I'd predicted!"
Quintus turned. The former Grand Mage Claude grinned madly on the tower behind them, practically vibrating with sheer excitement. Around him smoldered multiple concentric rings inscribed with arcane sigils.
"That must've been the largest [T'chloch'nthan] summoned in history! And without a single catalyst! I thought I would miss my levels in [Spellcraft], but this mana pool..." The ancient mage trembled as he spoke, looking up at Quintus with shining eyes. "It's so much more than I had ever imagined. So much more."
Quintus stared at the man. "What did you do?"
The battlefield felt still. Unnaturally so. Even the Legionnaires remained silent in disbelief at what they'd just witnessed. The groans of wounded across the battlefield were far too loud in the resulting silence.
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"Why, I summoned a [T'chloch'nthan]!" Claude responded rather unhelpfully. "I dabbled a bit in summoning early into my career---summoned minions sounded quite superior to hired hands on paper, but, well, in practice things didn't quite work out so well... But there are some that are quite effective at combat. I had to dismiss it, lest it ate us all, but it's a promising result. We'll need to experiment with others as well---"
Quintus cut the old man's ramblings off. "And you didn't think to inform your commanding officer of your plans?"
"I did! Or, at least, I thought I did. Perhaps I forgot. I do get so wrapped up in my projects sometimes."
Cold rage flashed through Quintus. He stepped toward the senile old mage, ready to lay into him, but felt himself stumble. The world spun as a sudden wooziness slammed into him like a hammer.
"Woah!" The mage chuckled, wobbling in place. "That's a bad one. It's been a while since my mana's gone this dry... I suppose I might have overdone it a bit."
The mage quickly retrieved a small vial from his belt and downed it. He tossed another toward Quintus, who just barely managed to catch it. "Mana potion. It should help a bit. Well, actually, it may not. Even my strongest can only restore a pittance of the Legion's full mana pool... But better than nothing, eh?"
"Sir," one of the other officers spoke up, leaning drunkenly against the wall. "The enemy... they're moving."
Quintus looked out to see that it was true. The beasts were beginning to rouse from their fearful stupor. If they waited any longer, the opening they'd been given would disappear. And they wouldn't get another anytime soon.
Suppressing a curse, Quintus tossed back the mana potion. It tasted like burnt lilac. He felt the lightness in his head dissipate ever so slightly. Then he glared at Claude. "Defend the outpost. We will speak about this when I return."
"Of course, Legatus!" Claude grinned broadly and slammed a fist against his chest. "I'll look forward to it!"
Either the man didn't register the sheer malice in Quintus's glare or simply didn't care. Either way, he didn't have time to berate the mage further. He leaped down the tower and into position. "Casters, stay behind. Everyone else, fill in. Open the wall!"
His formation shifted quickly as the still woozy earthshapers pressed their palms against the stone. A large section dropped into the earth below, revealing only sand and the lifeless bodies of enemies who had bashed themselves against their walls.
Quintus shouted a command to the two hundred men behind him, willing [Lead from the Front] and [Coordinated Offense] to carry them forward through the effects of Claude's spell. He felt his own head clearing as they moved, charging through the scattering of foes that began to rush forward and meet them.
He had been warned of the former grand mage's abilities, about his terrifying spellcasting. He'd seen some of his larger-scale workings firsthand as he called forth a hurricane out of nothing and brought a much-needed rain to the entire empire at Tiberius's behest. They were rare occasions, as he usually spent his days tinkering and muttering to himself with no discernible result. Even after joining the Third Legion, Quintus found it far easier to let the man do his work rather than become ensnared in his incessant ramblings.
But this was different. This was no simple working of the weather. This was far more dangerous. Something that made Quintus far more wary of the old coot.
He still fully intended to lay into the man. He'd just reduced their entire Legion's fighting capabilities in one fell swoop, rendering them as unsteady as drunkards. True, it had killed off a third of the enemy's forces, but was that worth the trade? Possibly. But he would have had a far easier time answering if he hadn't been in the dark. If he'd had time to prepare for this.Though it seemed that he'd been overlooking one of his largest combat assets due to his own personal dislike of the man. Unacceptable.
It seemed that he'd been overlooking one of his largest combat assets due to his own personal dislike of the man. Unacceptable.
But now was not the time to dwell on such things. He had to play the hand he was dealt. At least the rest of the Legion was behind walls and in a far more defensible position. Most of the work to stabilize the ground was already done, meaning the lack of mana shouldn't prove fatal. It would only limit their future offensive options until it regenerated more.
They raced forward, kicking up sand in their wake as they shot toward their target. Quintus saw that a few of the groups of elite soldiers had been taken out by Claude's spell, but the staff-wielding commander remained. One other reason to be cross about the mage's lack of communication. If he'd been a little more cooperative, then perhaps he could have taken out the commander without a need for all of this. Then again, who was to say the others of his kind weren't capable of taking over?
Despite the cataclysmic losses, the enemy army didn't break and flee. They began to regroup, rushing toward Quintus and his strike force with increasing speed like a parted sea crashing back together. They pushed themselves even faster, streaking toward the frantic commander as though the wind itself carried them. Which it very possibly did. He wasn't the only one with movement skills, after all.
The tip of their spear closed the distance rapidly, even as the enemy forces converged on their position. Quintus slashed forward with his windblade, carving through diving birds and charging boars as they dove toward the battering ram of shields. The long-furred commander screeched something, shaking its staff and backpedaling as a wall of scorpions rose from the sand in front of it. A bulwark against the incoming attack.
The Legionnaires charged forth in silence and grim determination, smashing into the line of defenders with a vengeance. Shards of brown chitin flew skyward as [Rend] and [Tear] kicked up a sandstorm ahead of them. Yet the beasts were dense enough to finally slow their momentum.
The formation shifted as the Legionnaires caught up to Quintus. They quickly rearranged, integrating the Legatus into a more robust defensive formation as the enemy set upon them from all sides. Before them, the commander scowled, beady black eyes gleaming with malice.