“Fly a signal,” Miro instructed the pilot. “Send in the constructs. Everyone else to pull back to the defenses at Castlemere.”
A moment later there was a crash as the doors to the carts hidden in the forest burst open. Animators hurriedly climbed towers and placed tablets at their knees.
Ironmen and woodmen lumbered forward with odd, mechanical movements. The enemy hurriedly formed up, turning to face the new threat.
The constructs charged down from the ridge.
The ironmen glistened, black limbs shining as the light of early morning cast slanted rays on the steel. The polished woodmen held the left flank while ironmen held the right.
They smashed into the enemy, remorseless in their power. The golems and colossi were back at Castlemere, but this was the bulk of Halaran’s military strength, unleashed in one mad charge. Hundreds of Halrana constructs became swallowed by thousands of revenants.
Miro gripped the rail as the animated fought the dead. Tearing his gaze away from the battle, he watched as Tiesto pulled the defenders back, leading the infantry and archers along the ridge until the foremost reached the start of Miro’s long wall. Miro breathed a sigh of relief.
As the creatures of iron and wood battled the undead, soon the only people left at the ridge were the animators themselves, guiding their creations with touches of their controller tablets and spoken words. In a heartbeat, chaos overtook the battlefield, and the constructs’ careful formation broke down.
Cannon boomed from some of the beached ships whose exposed sides faced the battle, tearing through constructs and revenants alike.
A group of revenants broke free and charged the animators on the bank.
Miro cursed. Even against the charge, the animators held their positions. Miro’s heart went out to the courage of these men. Diemos, if the order was his, was clever.
Then something huge broke through the forest.
Miro saw a colossus stride forward in great lumbering bounds. Miro’s heart raced; he’d thought all the colossi were back behind Castlemere. Squinting, he recognized the mighty construct, and in a moment Miro knew who the animator was.
Luca Angelo sat in his controller cage, guiding his colossus with words and gestures as he fought to defend his countrymen.
A great sword blazed in one of the colossus’s huge hands. As the revenants rushed up the ridge, ready to crush the defenseless animators on their towers, a single stroke of the sword tore through a dozen bodies. A foot stomped on a revenant, and the colossus’s free arm swiped at the ground, sending a bunch more flying through the air.
The ironmen and woodmen on the beach were now overwhelmed, their charge ended. The shallow waters heaved with broken bodies. The animators scrabbled down their ladders, and the brown-robed Halrana ran for safety, back toward Castlemere.
Luca Angelo swung the enchanted sword left and right, clearing the ground in front of him before moving deep into the horde. The immense blade tore through the enemy, but rather than breaking free from the onslaught, Luca fought on. His controller cage on top of the gigantic head sparkled with color. Miro held his breath as the colossus carved a path toward the man in the three-cornered hat.
Thunderous roars followed puffs of smoke as cannon fired.
A ball struck the colossus square in the chest.
The construct fell down on its back, but whatever Luca did, he managed to get the colossus back to one knee. Revenants climbed up the legs and arms but still the Halrana animator chopped into flesh with the huge enchanted sword, wiping out revenants in numbers, giving his countrymen the time they needed to escape.
Enemy warriors climbed up the limbs to reach the controller cage and tore it open. Swords stabbed in through the gaps in the metal and with a rumble the colossus once more fell on its back.
This time it was still.
Miro released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he wiped a hand across his face, watching as order returned to the enemy’s ranks. More ships beached further away from Castlemere. Today’s battle was over.
There were bodies everywhere, but with relatively few fallen defenders, at least there would be little fodder for the enemy’s war machine. Miro knew the suffering it would cause his men to fight their friends. Miro and Tiesto had sacrificed the constructs, but they’d used them well.
He ordered the pilot to take him back to the defenses outside Castlemere.
The next attack would come soon.
31
Miro felt tension in every bone of his body as he sat in his command tent, staring at the canvas wall, waiting for the scouts to tell him of the enemy’s approach.
The day passed slowly and inexorably, and then it was night. At dusk a scout told him the enemy had spent all day unloading. The attack would come the next day.
Another day, bought with blood.