Jon had the chance to study the cannons’ new positions during the thin pre-dawn light, but the firing didn’t actually start until the moment that the sun peeked above the horizon. The stone men had been busy last night and had reorganized their entire lines to support all of their cannons in the center, pointing right at him and his men five to six hundred yards from where they now stood. Jon imagined that the distance would have been a lot farther if they’d been fighting on level ground, but even this distance was still several times the effective range of a brand.

As far as the dwarves were concerned, they’d already ready won. After all, Jon couldn’t shoot them from here. He couldn’t even reach them with his flames. So they could simply keep firing until everyone up here with him was shattered. That was fine. 

Jon had been busy too. They’d had to dig out the mini avalanche that had been created when the ammo dump had been detonated the previous evening, so they could move the train before it was blasted to smithereens. At the time, the unexpected fight had been a disaster, but now, he would turn it to his advantage no matter how hard they had to work. 

Despite everything else that happened today, Jon was definitely going to need the train for the battles that lay ahead. So, he’d had people up most of the night clearing the track. Once that was done, he moved the locomotive almost a mile further down, putting it well out of range for the smaller dwarven cannons that had been brought to bear. While he did that, of course, others were still doing a number of tasks. Digging holes, burying things, and just generally making it so that the dwarves would be firing their biggest guns in precisely the wrong area. Though Jon doubted he could run the meticulous stone men out of ammo with such a strategy, it was nice to dream. 

So, when the first rays of dawn touched the battlefield and the dwarves launched their initial volley, they aimed at the foxholes they’d seen the humans positioned in on the previous day, but all that was in those now were canvas sacks stuffed to give the impression that something was still there. The lumps were further accentuated with branches in an attempt to make it look like his shadow army was equipped with brands. It would work okay. A least until it got brighter out.  

Jon let himself feel the fire that was in the explosive rounds, but he did not detonate them in midair just yet. He would save that surprise for later. The first volley largely came in below the target, and had his men actually still been there, most of them would have lived. He couldn’t say the same about the second or the third volleys, which devastated the landscape. Even the rails were destroyed and twisted beyond recognition. Though the little holes they’d dug would have protected them from bullets, it would seem they’d have been absolutely ineffective against these larger, more terrible weapons. 

The bombardment was only taking place fifty or sixty yards from where they hid amidst the cleared debris, so Jon could feel each explosion resonate through him. He could also hear the whispered prayers around him as his men endured the barrage of strange dwarven magic from their reasonably well-protected hiding place behind the partially cleared avalanche. He didn’t deny that it was terrifying, but he didn’t think that they quite appreciated the true horror of the enemy they faced just yet.

Jon cooked off one of the rounds in one of the two remaining dwarven artillery pieces that still sat up here and watched it go wide, arching over the heads of the cannoneers. It didn’t matter. They’d done their best, but even he had no idea of how to aim the exotic weapons beyond pointing them in the right direction and firing. The whole goal with those two shots was to make the dwarves think there were still survivors worth fighting so that they wasted time and ammunition destroying people that had never been there. That worked for the better part of an hour, but once the smoke cleared and there was no return fire or movement, a small army of several human soldiers began marching up the hillside with pikes and halberds. 

“Are we really going to kill our own people like this, Jon,” Elise asked, tucked into the small trench they’d created with all the avalanche earth they’d moved. 

His only response was to nod. As much as he hated killing his fellow man, that had always been the reason for coming here. They had to break the back of the king’s army before they moved closer to the seats of power, and there was nowhere else 300 men could do that besides Mud Bay. 

The only people that were mounted in the oncoming force were the officers, and they moved at the same slow pace as everyone else. So it took almost twenty minutes for them to close the distance, and even after the first ranks came within range, they held their fire. Jon had made it clear to every man that as soon as they revealed their position, the dwarves would simply pivot and bombard them to dust.

So they waited, and while Jon would have loved nothing more than to fire the flare now, he knew that the men wouldn’t feel right about it until they’d seen the true face of war, and right now, the next atrocity waiting to be unleashed had been buried beneath the feet of the advancing unit. 

Overnight the dozens of spare powder flasks they’d seized at the depot were filled with dwarven powder and buried, and all they required was a spark to be turned into tiny little bombs. It was only when the leading edge of the opposing army was practically out of their tiny field of death that Jon whispered “now” and let his strongest fire bloods work together to start blowing them up. Jon was trying to save his strength, but he did help out with the back rows a bit since they were beyond everyone else’s reach. 

The result was a thundering series of small and spasmodic explosions that turned the area into a tiny firestorm for a few seconds. While less dramatic than the dwarven bombardment and too uncoordinated to be truly deadly, it was still terrifying, and at least part of that fear came from the fact that there didn’t seem to be a source. 

There were shouts about fire blooded and their infernal magics in those moments of panic. Then the men started to flee but were quickly formed back up and forced to advance once more. Jon had been hoping that the bombs would have been enough to break the enemy and buy them another hour, but that was not to be, and reluctantly he gave the order for everyone to open fire. 

After that, it was a slaughter. Their enemies bravely charged with their spears, but no one got within 50 feet before they fell, bleeding on the ground under the withering fusillade.  

“Alright, men,” he yelled. “Everyone spread out now. Take cover in the deepest craters you can find because they’re going to try to wipe us out to a man now!”

Try was the key word there, and though he was sure the dwarves would do their best to obliterate his force, Jon doubted very much that they would succeed. After all, he had powers they had not yet dreamed of, and he and Elise stayed just where they were while the majority of his people scattered. 

The next wave of cannon fire was a tense moment, but all the rounds exploded well before they reached Jon’s forces, and those in cover faced little real danger from the areal blasts and scattering of shrapnel. After that, neither the second nor third rounds did much better. Causing so many projectiles to explode midair at once was difficult for Jon, and some got closer than others, but only a few pieces of shrapnel ever got close, and he found himself almost enjoying the tense moment as he felt like he could single-handedly turn the tide of battle.

“You wonder if this is driving them crazy yet, beautiful? I’ll bet they can’t even figure out what’s….” Jon’s words were interrupted by a gasp of pain as he looked over and saw Elise’s shirt stained bright red with a piece of twisted metal penetrating her flesh near her collarbone. 

For a moment, he sat there stunned, and it was only when he heard a cannon fire once more that he snapped back into action, detonating its round even as he called for a healer. 

“Y-you’re going to be okay, baby,” he said, holding her and gripping her hand as the stain continued to grow. He knew that some people would be injured and a few might die, even with his protection, but he’d never thought she could be one of them in his wildest nightmares. 

She’d been right next to him, so she should have been safe. That was the way he’d planned it. She was next to him, and Claire was in the giant guarding the train so that both of them would be safe no matter what. He loved his men, but except for Rian, who wasn’t even here, he was prepared to trade their lives for the good of the cause. Elise though? That was asking too much. Jon didn’t care that the jagged shard had only come two feet from hitting him. He was far too deeply in denial as he looked into her pain-filled eyes to care about his own mortality. Seeing her like this, and knowing that all of this could have ended hours ago, broke the small part of him that still believed in mercy. 

“I-I’ll be fine,” she gasped, telling him the damage was worse than he’d feared. “Y-you just focus on what needs… needs to be done.” She was unconscious before the healer ever reached them. Jon didn’t know if she was dead or merely dying, but right now, all he could do was hope. 

Hope wasn’t what pulled him out of his well of despair, though. It was the percussion of a dwarven shell landing twenty yards from where he sat after bypassing his distracted mind. That brought everything into focus, and suddenly with a wave of his arm, he detonated every airborne projectile that was streaking toward them. He’d had enough of this. It was time to bring things to an end. So, focusing on what might have been her last words, he pulled the flare gun from his pouch, loaded the green flare, and then launched it skywards.   

All the cockiness that he’d felt until now vanished. He’d wanted everyone to understand that what he did next was necessary, but he’d waited too long. Had he ever thought that his beloved of all people might get hurt, he would have done it differently. 

Suddenly Jon was filled with regret as he stood from where he’d sheltered behind the earthen berm and started walking forward. Everything was set in motion now, so it no longer mattered whether he lived or died, and as much as he would like to continue his fight for the capital, and ensure that the revolution ended with the fairness and justice he’d hoped for, right now he needed something else. 

He needed revenge.