Chapter 69 - The Second Battle of Marnadal
It was dawn. My preparations were largely complete, though there was always more to be done. Picking out the shards of metal from my hand had been quite unpleasant, but a strong application of Haela had largely returned my hand back to working condition. My ribs still hurt from the fall, but not enough to hamper me, and the icy clarity of my reflex enhancement chased away any hint of tiredness.
Vooren had been transformed without a hitch, as had a large portion of our captives, alongside my old opponent, Commander Garrik. Most of the former men were hidden near the outer wall, though many were concealed throughout the fort, excluding the inner section.
Matheus, my three-legged and still recovering War Hound, had been moved to the inner parts of the fort as well. Though wounded and not truly fighting fit, if things got desperate, he could still give the enemy a surprise. After all, they knew I had three of the hounds, and they would only see three of them, unless they made it past the inner ‘wall’.
I was in my tent, leafing through my notes with a map of Cintra sprawled on my table. Alone, save for the silent monster at my back. I gave Monck a glance, before returning to my work.
I had impressed even myself with the results. The four-eyed, lanky creature was powerful and fast. Its hide was difficult to pierce without silver, but taking care of that weakness had been trivial.
Though my blacksmiths were busy repairing our gear after the battle with the Nazairi invasion force, as well as manufacturing arrowheads and other consumables, I had judged the diversion of a few worth it.
The result of their work now stood behind me. Armour plates were fitted all over Monck’s body, while his head was hidden by an approximation of a sallet helmet, with his jaws further concealed by a chainmail coif.
To call Monck’s attire armour was probably an insult to armoursmiths everywhere, but the ramshackle nature of it was unavoidable. To produce a proper armour set for a creature of inhuman proportions in a matter of days was utterly impossible. Still, the blacksmiths had done their best. The ensemble was completed by a two-handed sword, easily over two metres tall, yet appearing rather small in the creature’s grasp. Like the armour, a proper replacement would have to be forged later. A three, perhaps even four-metre sword would serve Monck’s new stature better.
More importantly, Monck had remained obedient, if largely silent. The only word the creature said, or, more accurately, attempted to articulate through its jagged teeth, was a near unintelligible sound that vaguely resembled ‘Marianna’, which was quite an interesting data point.
A single experiment wasn’t enough to draw any concrete conclusions, but it was possible that such anchors might help with stabilising the mind of any mutated human.
I would have more opportunities to test that soon, hopefully.
I had also tested my newly expanded magical capacity. The enormous amount of Power I had channelled during our retreat had been quite the boon in that regard. I estimated between a thirty and forty percent increase, which wasn’t anything to scoff at. I still couldn’t match archmages who had been throwing spells around for centuries, but combined with the efficiency of numeromancy, the increase was notable.
Whether it would be enough depended largely on Vissegerd. To say our situation was precarious would be a dire understatement.
The trick with the hidden monsters would work once, if even that. I had no illusions about our half-finished walls keeping the Nilfgaardians out, but I had hopes of pushing them out afterwards. Yes, if everything went well, we might repel them, once.
I examined my new dagger, running a finger over the edge as my mind worked. The loss of the dimeritium dagger was lamentable, but such was war.
Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to use it, but I doubted I’d be that lucky.
The Marshal was still nowhere to be found. No scouts or messengers had been spotted, let alone approached - though the latter was understandable, considering the encirclement of Dreadhold.
In my estimation, Cintra’s reinforcements should have arrived days ago. I ran the edge of the dagger across the map, from Cintra’s capital to Dreadhold.
Something wasn’t adding up.
The idea of Nazair or Nilfgaard making their way north without passing through Marnadal was unthinkable. Calanthé’s relations with the Skellige Isles made an approach by sea foolhardy at best, and a fleet would have been noticed long before I had been cut off here in Dreadhold.
I pointed the dagger to the east. In theory, Nilfgaard could have passed through Toussaint, continuing to Riverdell and Sodden, before hitting Cintra from the east.
The notion was no less preposterous. Not only would the Toussainti almost certainly oppose any such large troop movements through their territory, but Cintra, along with both Rivia and Temeria, had eyes on Riverdell, as well as Sodden.
I tapped the dagger on the table.
Barring something preposterous, like some large-scale teleportation spell, I could rule out troop movement as the reason for Vissegerd’s delay.
Which still left a few options.
With my own experience in Cintra, I was inclined towards some action by Nilfgaard’s agents. Sabotage, assassinations, or perhaps some sort of terrain-altering spell.
Not for the first time, I considered going to check myself. While the enemy would undoubtedly not let me teleport around, they couldn’t stop me from gating out of Dreadhold. Well, they most likely could, but they had not. To restrict teleportation over such a large area wasn’t something easily done, and they’d have to dedicate most of their mages to it.
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As before, I dismissed the notion. I did not think Dreadhold could hold without me, and Nilfgaard’s preparations were almost done. The attack would come soon.
Vissegerd would have to manage on his own, and quickly.
I could not even retreat without dooming the reinforcing army. If I did so, there was a chance that the reinforcing Cintrans would collide with Nilfgaard before I could rejoin them. After all, I couldn’t leave the wounded King in some random meadow.
On the one hand, it would be a neat excuse to avoid further combat. On the other hand, they’d probably get massacred, and we’d lose the pass. Since I highly doubted that Nilfgaard was going to abandon their expansionist tendencies any time soon, such an outcome would practically doom Cintra in the long term.
I would still act to preserve my own life, but I wasn’t ready to give up everything I’d built here in Cintra. Especially since I doubted that Nilfgaard would stop here, anyway. It was better to be in a position of power, to control my own fate. As the Empire fielded mages, the Northern Kingdoms would be forced to do so as well, Brotherhood or no Brotherhood. It was practically the same situation as in my past life.
The sound of a war horn brought me out of my ruminations.
I sighed, then put on my helmet and grabbed my staff.
It was time to earn my wage.
A single siege tower alongside a battering ram rolled slowly forward, a testament to the competence of the engineering corps. Constructed in record time, the siege engines were not exactly the pinnacle of the craft, but they protected the soldiers from arrow fire well enough. Especially when combined with the defensive magic of the sorcerers protecting the engines.
Certainly, the soldiers inside both were the envy of their ladder-carrying peers. Those moved in three lines - the sides shielded the centre, where the men carried the ladder above their heads. Each ladder was itself covered in wooden boards and hides, offering decent protection. Though slow, the formation protected the soldiers from arrows well enough, though that would likely change as they neared the walls, and the arrows grew in number and power.
Yet, the army of the Great Sun did not intend to rely merely on the mundane.
At its back, next to the proud Emperor on his steed, safely hidden within the ranks of Nilfgaard's best knights, Braathens watched attentively, his eyes flitting from the fort to the skies.
Abruptly, the sorcerer whipped his head around. Where nothing had been before, now dozens of riders stood, their heavy armour resembling bones. At their forefront stood the sorceress, the skull of her helmet staring straight at Braathens.The next second, they moved, and the earth shook.
Half of the Emperor’s knights turned as one, while Braathens’ eyes narrowed. His staff glowed, and a pulse of lightning erupted from it, spreading towards the riders. The moment the pulse reached them, they disappeared like mist.
The sorcerer shook his head in contempt before turning towards the fort once more, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as splinters showered the troops.
Cyril ducked, protecting his head, as stone rained around him, part of the ramparts next to him disintegrating as if made of ash. At this rate, he wasn’t sure how long the gatehouse would last, and that was before the battering ram even got near it!
Peeking his head out, he couldn’t help but grimace. The Blacks were advancing, and their efforts to slow them amounted to little. Arrows and bolts pinged off shields, forged from both metal and sorcery, while the ramparts were showered almost non-stop by projectiles shot by the enemy bowmen, or worse, mages. Occasionally, a bolt made it through, but not a single one of the ladder-carrying formations was even slowed. The less said about the siege tower, the better.
Their own casualties were most likely worse, despite the ramparts.
Degurechaff’s phantom charge had disappeared as quickly as she had conjured it, not achieving much.
He grimaced, then blinked as he saw the sorceress next to him. Cyril would have sworn she wasn’t there a second ago.
Before the enemy’s back ranks could adjust properly, Degurechaff pointed her staff towards the siege tower.
A black tentacle appeared inside the magical shield the Blacks used to protect the tower, before coiling around the siege engine.
Then it constricted.
The pressure shattered the structure near instantly, sending splinters and soldiers alike flying.
A spear made of earth hurtled towards Degurechaff a moment later, but the sorceress did not move an inch.
The air tore as something moved, and the spear smashed into the ground.
Cyril pointedly did not look at the massive invisible monster that Degurechaff had guarding the gate. The ‘Sentinel’ she had called it. The number of monsters she seemed to be capable of creating only kept growing.
I leaned to the side, evading another spell whilst I stood on top of the gatehouse. More came instantly - mostly spears of ice, fire and earth. Some I evaded, others I blocked, and a few I ignored, letting Monck deflect them for me to conserve Power. The man was proving a much better investment than I had hoped.
After the siege tower, I had cracked three ladders before the Nilfgaardian sorcerers managed to adjust and force me on the defensive.
Despite that, it seemed that my enemies were being quite cautious.
I pointed my staff, Vaeltha absorbing another attack as I surveyed the battlefield. I didn’t like it. They had every advantage, and their conservative approach put me on edge.
I glanced behind me, noting that Wilibald was already in position, waiting behind the gate.
“Aespar,” I spoke, the amount of Power making the air vibrate, as countless icicles started growing all over the wall, “Aedd,” I continued, gritting my teeth, as I was forced to dodge a ball of flame, and two earthen spears crashed into the gate below me, causing the entire structure to shake, “Gynvael!”
The spears of ice shot out, showering the battlefield as the Nilfgaardian mages were forced on the defensive to protect their troops and remaining siege engines.
My spell did not go unnoticed.
The bald mage who had dispelled my illusion moved, and two phoenixes grew over the battlefield. They were smaller than the last one, but I did not doubt their deadliness.
I grimaced as one flew towards me, his ploy obvious. I expanded my shield in front of the walls, my eyes darting around for any other threats, remembering the last time this spell had been used against me.
The air grew hot as the flaming construct struck my shield, the very earth underneath it bubbling.
Then, just as quickly as it had arrived, it was gone, and the Nilfgaardians roared in triumph.
The second phoenix had gone to my right.
With no one to protect the wall, the spell had hit it without trouble.
Now, a section had disappeared, leaving a jagged hole towards which the Nilfgaardian horde marched.