He looked back along the line. It was taking too long. What was happening? There was some kind of commotion along the line. He watched as the mortars took their toll on the attackers. These were legionnaires though — their glowing armour prevented much of the orbs’ devastating effect. They added more planks as they crossed.
Finally, evenly spaced along the ridge, five great metal balls began to roll down the hill, their runes glowing fiery red. Each was twice the circle of a man’s arms in size. They gathered momentum as they rolled, and Miro prayed they would find the correct gaps in the trenches.
He had measured it carefully. They had left gaps between the trenches, only two or three paces, so that the spheres would be able to roll through the trenches and into the mass of men crossing.
He held his breath as they approached. Some had worried that seeing them approaching, many of the enemy would panic, reducing the devastators’ effect. But these were imperial legionnaires. They wouldn’t panic.
One of the spheres fell into a trench. Another found a gradient in the hill and started to drift to the side, missing the line of trenches completely. A groan went up from the defenders.
The other three devastators went through the trenches and into the mass of legionnaires who had yet to cross.
The devastator in the trench exploded first, just as a score of men were crossing. They saw it an instant before they heard it. The hillside simply exploded. Earth and rock went in all directions, flying into the air in a huge cloud, obscuring Miro’s view. The boom as it exploded was deafening. The sound rolled around the hills like thunder.
Miro watched as the wayward sphere followed the line of the hill, rolling steadily towards the main army encampment below. His heart racing, he willed it to roll closer to the main body of men. First rolling away from the men, the sphere hit a bump and turned back towards the enemy. Sensing its approach, they began to scatter. It touched the edge of the enemy force, where a group of artificers operated the Black Army’s dirigibles and mortars.
Then within moments of each other, all of the remaining glowing spheres detonated. Even Miro had to put his hands to his ears. Nothing could be seen through the smoke and dust. He peered anxiously as it cleared.
Miro could see now that half of the hillside had been blown away. Perhaps two thirds of the wave of legionnaires had been wiped out. It meant the loss of their trenches. He hoped it had been worth it. Looking at the main body of the enemy, he saw they had lost scores of Louan artificers along with many of their mortars and dirigibles.
But forty-thousand of the enemy still remained, held in reserve. Forty, to their five.
With a roar, the remaining legionnaires came pouring out of the smoke, rushing towards the defenders. One of the imperial avengers came on, at the head of their wedge formation, like the point of a spear. It was missing an arm, the thin slit of its eyes glaring with menace.
The initial testing over, the battle began in earnest.
~
THE legion smashed into the front of the line, like a wave breaking on the shore. It was instant chaos, all sense of order lost.
Miro and Bartolo were in the middle of the fray, the flying reserve unexpectedly embroiled when the legionnaires hit the middle of the line. If anything Miro was glad they had hit him where he was strongest, but he hoped the reserve would save some of its strength.
The song of the two bladesingers held the men together; the glaring of their armoursilk and sparking zenblades was a beacon to guide them. To Miro’s surprise Lord Rorelan was in the thick of the fighting, parrying and lunging with a formal style that gave away his training.
"Hold for me!" Bartolo cried. Miro braced himself.
Bartolo leapt into the air, his feet hitting Miro’s shoulders and using Miro to propel himself an incredible height above the fighting soldiers. He landed next to the avenger.
"Altura!" Bartolo cried. He was echoed by the soldiers.
The men began to surge forward.
"Hold!" Miro called. "Hold the line!"
Looking over the heads of the enemy he could see another wave coming behind.
Most of the men pulled back, those who didn’t soon found themselves alone. They didn’t last long.
Miro ducked the swing of a legionnaire and thrust his fiery zenblade at the man’s stomach. Blood and gore sprayed out into his face. He quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his left hand then blocked a vicious overhand cut from a half-moon axe blade. He kicked out at the man, lunging into the space he created. His song reached a crescendo. He spun on his heel, the length of the sword arcing through the air. It cut through two spears and a shield. Three men went down.
Panting, Miro regained the height of the crest and looked along the line. They were holding, just.
Then the next wave of the enemy hit, and Miro concentrated on staying alive.
~