Michael reacted in the only way he knew how. With his combined loyalty to the city he was raised in and the ideals of Issho-Ni ingrained in him, his first instinct was to protect the innocent people trapped on Temple Street. They were in the most danger, as they were clumped together, caught out in the open during a siege. He completely forgot about Eric, the fight, and his reasons for distrusting and disliking him.
As another spell rained down from the sky, Michael leaped into the air. He didn’t know Counterspell like Megan did, but he had superior speed and reflexes, heightened even more so by the spell he’d cast on his body. He swung his Spellblade at the incoming attack, shredding the mana that formed it and dropping safely to the ground. Then he was up again to swat another missile. With the adrenaline coursing through his system alongside the electricity, he briefly exceeded his normal limits.
Immediately after Michael, several other members of the crowd moved. These were the masters of the crowd, both from Issho-Ni and elsewhere in the city. Samuel Bragg’s mana flared to its full capacity, spreading out in a massive circle and forming an inch-thick barrier to catch even more missiles. The Masters of Issho-Ni, those with fighters under their command, began shouting out commands for their men to muster and form protective stances.
In the first few seconds, solid protection had been cast over the citizens by the members of Issho-Ni. The soldiers in the crowd had raised their shields high, activating the protective enchantments in their equipment to form a canopy, and there were already orders being issued to safely direct the citizens to safety. There were only a few dozen battle-ready people left over after these immediate actions, and they were moving quickly to Calemviir, automatically marking him as the command point for reaction.
Michael had returned to the stage by the time a minute had passed, and he was listening intently to Calemviir giving out orders. Eric was there as well, besides his mentor, his face pale but set. Megan clambered onto the sparring stage, looking for some sign of Samuel, but he seemed to have disappeared. His barrier remained where he’d cast it, still stopping the artillery spells from reaching the street below. It only covered a few hundred feet in every direction, but it was enough to safeguard the packed crowd.
“Rainhall, you take your battalion to the north gate,” Calemviir was saying crisply. “Come around to the east to make sure that we’re not surrounded. Moran, you teleport to the garrison and direct the Queen’s Guard. We’re taking emergency control.”
The two men he spoke to nodded curtly and immediately moved off. Rainhall, a surly-faced man in white master’s robes, was calling orders for his men to follow, while Moran, a young-looking mage, simply disappeared from view. The small crowd around Calemviir stepped aside to let people pass, then moved in closer again, still listening.
“Shiora, you muster anyone that’s within the city, then go to the palace. Let the Crown know what our plans are, and work with the Queen to get a sense of what’s going on.”
Shiora, a lean man with silvery hair, nodded in his own turn and whisked away, a long spear in his grip. Megan noticed that Ehran paid close attention to this man, a look of slight concern on his face. The expression was gone quickly, however, as Calemviir addressed him.
“Ehran, you and I will go to the East Gate. That’s where it’s all coming from. We’ll get a stock of what’s going on, and provide emergency defense.”
“Of course,” Ehran said smoothly. He beckoned for Eric to follow him. “Come on, Breeden.”
“You want me to come with you?” Eric asked, his voice cracking with tension. “But I’m not a Master.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ehran said firmly. “You’ll lead the effort to clear the gate area of civilians. Then you come and help us fight.”
“What should I do?” Megan blurted out, unsure of her welcome in the discussion but charged with adrenaline, wanting to do something that wasn’t sitting still. Ehran studied her critically for a second, weighing his thoughts before he replied.
“Come with us. I’m sure Bragg is mustering his soldiers, so the best place for you is with us. You can support Breeden.”
Megan nodded her understanding at once. She’d never experienced a full war before, of course, but her time training for the group combat at the Exchange had taught her the importance of keeping a close eye on her allies. “Alright. I’ll work with you, Eric, at least until Samuel gives me more direct orders.”
“Sounds great,” Eric agreed, managing a faint smile. “Wasn’t expecting this so soon. Were you?”
Numbly, she shook her head as Calemviir started to jog away, and they fell into step behind him. The pace was a little intense for Megan who wasn’t in the greatest of shape, but Eric and Ehran seemed to have no trouble keeping up. Ehran was saying something to Eric, the sound of his voice lost over the tramp of footsteps that surrounded them. The citizens were moving in the opposite direction, and though they looked scared, they were evacuating Temple Street in an orderly fashion. They must have a lot of trust in Issho-Ni to protect them, Megan thought.
By the time they hit the main road, it was almost completely deserted. Citizens had already cleared it completely, either heading to their homes to collect possessions and family or to a safe location where they could be protected by the soldiers. Glancing around, Megan and Eric could identify the spots of damage done to the city by raining spells. The strikes seemed to have stopped by now, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. What if the line of defense had already been breached?
“Have the walls ever been breached before?” Eric asked the senior soldiers. “Or are they strong enough to hold them off?”
“It has happened before,” Ehran answered him. Calemviir seemed too focused to reply. “The outer wall was never meant to be a firm line of defense, but a holding point. It has fallen in the past, but the city has never been taken.”
Eric fell silent after that and remained so for the rest of the trip to the wall. Megan couldn’t bring herself to ask any questions and just stuck to trying her best to keep up with the warriors. She knew in her gut that this was what Samuel meant by a “big event” coming in the future. All of a sudden, she wished that she’d had more time to prepare. A mere year of studying magic at a leisurely pace didn’t seem nearly enough. She would have trained much harder if she’d been given the chance.
Without warning, the outer wall of the city came into view. Megan remembered the secure feeling she’d felt the last time she’d passed under the East Gate. The stone barrier was nearly four meters in height and attended by capable-looking soldiers. Its strength was just one of those things you took for granted, she realized. But now, as they came into proper earshot, they could hear the sounds of fighting and shouting, and doubt rose within her chest like a vengeful flame. Could they really stand against an army?
Dozens of civilians were here, seemingly paralyzed by the fear of what lay outside the city. The soldiers around them were too busy rushing to the defense to give them much notice, and their cries and shouts of confusion and fear added to the confusion. They were all stout folk, the kinds who lived of the product of their farms. They were neither trained nor equipped to handle an event like this.
“Get those people back!” Calemviir shouted. “Ehran, with me!”
At once, both masters picked up their pace, charging towards the wall. The Captain of Issho-Ni drew his weapon as he ran, a broad and long sword that he held in a two-handed grip. The soldiers around him who were milling about in confusion spotted him at once, and the powerful aura he exuded seemed to inspire them so that they turned automatically to follow. Ehran, for his part, raced ahead much faster than his commander, scaling the wall in a matter of seconds and dropping, swords drawn and ready to strike, out of sight to the other side.
If it weren’t for Eric, Megan was sure they wouldn’t have been able to gain control of the terrified civilians. Her friend went into action at once, all signs of his fear forgotten as he raised his voice and shouted at the civilians. “People of Milagre! You need to clear the wall!”
They turned to see who was shouting at them, relief starting to show now that someone was addressing them. Eric ignored the questions they began to call out, waving his arms towards the palace, just barely visible in the distance. “Fall back to the palace now! There are already emergency defenses being put in place. You’ll be safe. Do not stop to grab anything! Stick close to your family, and stay on Queen’s Road!”
After a moment of confused hesitation, the farming folk began to comply. It started with one man who scooped up his wailing child and seized his wife’s wrist, pulling both away from the source of danger. Then another two people copied their actions, followed by another dozen. Eric was in overdrive, physically chivvying the stragglers along, firmly directing them further into the city.
Megan, sure that Eric had a handle on the job, moved closer to the closed East Gate and peered through the gaps in the stout iron bars. She could make out the sight of men from Milagre moving around, but she couldn’t see much else. With a slight glance at Eric to make sure that he didn’t need her help, she began running up the stairs that led to the top of the wall. When she finally reached the apex, she turned to face the plains around the city, and felt a horrible sinking feeling, as if several large stones had been slipped into her stomach.
A huge body of troops, easily numbering in the thousands, was gathered on the grassy slopes before Milagre. The sunlight of early morning glinted off countless helmets and weapons. Several blood-red flags waved in the faint breeze, all bearing the familiar emblem of Attos, a black hand holding a sword high. It represented the unbending strength and will of their leader, the man who had single-handedly led a revolution to take the country from the hands of a tyrant.
The Attosian army was split into four main sections. The largest of the two was clearly the infantry troops, several thousand men in heavy armor, trained to handle the brunt of an assault. Behind them were about three hundred archer units, which was the standard combination of a bowman and a spear-carrier, designed to take out enemies from afar. They weren’t firing as of yet, which surprised Megan, but the threat they posed was undeniable.
The group behind the archers was harder for Megan to identify at first because they carried no flags and had no livery attached to them. But as she looked longer at their dark clothing and strict military stances, she felt certain that she knew who they were. They were Black Hands, mercenaries who served under General Hazaam. So he’d actually thrown his fate in with Attos, she thought. She knew that there were a lot more than eight hundred men in his organization, though. Maybe some of them had refused to turn against Tyrman.
She spotted Ehran then, as he dove into the mix of men located dozens of yards from the city walls. An advance force of soldiers from Attos had begun the assault, and they were facing a much smaller body of Tyrman soldiers, outnumbering them four to one. The defenders fought grimly and gave little ground, but it was clear that they could only buy time while the main body of defenders could be raised.
From her elevated point of view, Megan was struck by a horrible sort of fascination. She’d read about old wars in a few history books, and had even heard tales from soldiers of the last great war that Tyrman had taken part in. But she could never have imagined the sheer scale of a battle like this. Regardless of who won, there would be hundreds, even thousands of lives lost in the effort, from attackers and defenders alike.
