Unlike on fiveday, Lerial’s forces have barely cleared the side street and begun to move toward the stone barricade when the first firebolt arches almost lazily from somewhere behind the stone barricade but forward of the old walls of the fort proper. It is not aimed at Lerial, however, but at the rear squad of Eleventh Company—the most distant part of the formation from Lerial.
Because it is a small chaos-bolt, Lerial uses a twin five-line order-pattern to redirect the chaos back down behind the front stone barricade along where he intends to attack.
Another chaos-bolt arches higher and seems aimed farther back, toward Twenty-third Company, but Lerial intercepts it as well and angles it into the Heldyan troopers to the south of those who perished from the first firebolt.
Abruptly, a shielded column of Heldyan foot rises and charges out of the north end of the stone barricade, as far from Lerial and his lancers as possible, clearly heading for Third Battalion, while avoiding the Mirror Lancers. Leading, as well as flanking the south side of the column, are shieldmen and pikemen, enough so that Lerial wishes that he had ordered his men armed with their lances. Without them, charging the column would result in far too many deaths and injuries.
Frig! “Mirror Lancers! Halt!” Lerial immediately creates the smallest amount of order-chaos separation in one of the shields in the middle of the column roughly two ranks back from the front.
Chaos erupts, but not nearly so much as Lerial would have thought—if only for a moment, as the remainder of that chaos is gathered and arrowed straight toward him. Lerial parries and redirects the chaos he has created back toward the chaos-wizard who has been throwing the firebolts, if while trying to keep track of the stronger and more concealed chaos-mage.
Sun-white chaos flares where the first wizard had been, then flashes toward Lerial like lightning, so quickly that he has no time to react, but his shields throw the chaos back toward the remaining Heldyan chaos-mage, who in turn boosts more chaos and returns the chaos to Lerial.
On the third pass, Lerial is ready and uses a triple ten-line pattern to focus all that chaos into a narrow lightning-like spear back at the chaos-mage.
WHHHSTT!
The entire front wall of the old fort explodes into a seething wall of sun-white heat, tinged with golden red, so bright that Lerial cannot even see for several moments thereafter.
When he can see, he finds his hands are shaking, not quite uncontrollably.
Only the last squad or so of the Heldyan column remains, and those survivors scramble back toward the remnants of the old fort.
It takes Lerial two hands to grasp his water bottle, uncork it, and take a swallow … then another. He looks around … and has to swallow hard. Four men in the front rank of Eighth Company, the two at each end of the rank, are charred corpses. So are their mounts, the result of Lerial’s shields, wide enough to protect him and those on each side, and quick enough to keep the chaos from passing the front rank. One of those rankers had been Vominen, the Verdyn lancer and scout who had left the Verdyn Lancers to join Eighth Company … and Lerial.
For several moments, Lerial just remains in his saddle. He swallows again, then forces himself to study the area before him. Still no one is moving. It is as if the rapid series of chaos-battles has frozen the Heldyans in place.
Lerial uses his order-chaos senses to seek out any signs that might remain of concentrated order or chaos. There are none.
“Mirror Lancers! Hold position!” He turns to Fheldar. “Send messengers to Third and Fourth Battalions that the chaos-wizards have been removed. They can handle the Heldyans from here on.” We’ve already lost enough men dealing with the results of Afritan weakness and incompetence. Even as he thinks that, he knows the losses will continue … and will likely get worse. But he needs to save his men for what only he and the Mirror Lancers can do.
He watches what remains of the barricades and the fort, takes another swallow of the watered lager, forcing it down, trying to ignore the stench of burned flesh … and waits for the Heldyan advance. Then he eats one of the hard biscuits he has brought, and swallows more watered lager.
Less than a tenth of a glass later, a Mirror Lancer rides toward Lerial and reins up.
“Ser … Undercaptain Kusyl wants you to know the Afritan battalion on the south and east side of the point is moving, but not the one to the north and west.”
Somehow, Lerial isn’t surprised. “Fheldar, hold the company here. If the Heldyans try an attack, charge them. Otherwise, just maintain the position here.”
“Yes, ser.”
Lerial raises the sabre he has not even been aware of drawing. “If the Afritans begin to advance, don’t get in their way. If they don’t, be ready.” He shrugs. “For what, I don’t know.” Yet.