Oil-filled tubes had been crafted throughout the coal undersurface, with air holes made in them every so often. Then the crafters upon the Aleran walls dropped the fire directly down and into the mouths of those tubes, flames rapidly licking down them.
Thirty seconds later, there was a roar of sound, as the fire fed upon the oil and the air expanded dangerously, rupturing the earth and shattering the flaky sheets of coal into gravel.
Fire screamed and rose, and somewhere above there was the howl of wind, wind, wind. The four Citizens who had taken off were providing the fire with enough air to be born - a veritable cyclone, really.
When it finally did leap up, it was in a roar, and a small cloud of earth and coal and blazing droplets of oil flew up so high into the air that, even lying down, Ehren could see the highest crown of it.
"Bloody crows!" cried a legionare, half in terror and half in joy.
Ehren could see it reflected in the young man's eyes. A vast curtain of flame was being drawn across the entire width of the Calderon Valley. Vord were screaming. Vord were dying - hundreds of thousands of them, who had so willingly packed as closely into the wall as possible.
Ehren thought sundown had come remarkably early. Somewhere nearby, a horn was sounding the retreat.
They had never intended to hold the first wall. It was simply too long to mount an effective defense. But the sacrifice and courage of the men who had bled and died at the first wall had let the Alerans cut a gaping wound into the vord's advantage of numbers. Brave young legionares. The poor idiots. Thank goodness Ehren would never have passed muster for a Legion, between his size and his lack of useful furycraft. He'd been able to avoid all that nonsense. And he'd helped get some good work done today.
A little voice told him that the vord could afford the losses. Though many had just died, in numbers greater than those of all the Legions of Alera that remained, the vord still had an overwhelming advantage.
Which was why, he mused, there were more surprises waiting for them as they progressed into the Valley. Count Calderon was more than ready to welcome them. He might not be able to stop them - it was possible that no one could. But, by the furies, from listening to the man, they would pay for every breath they took of the Count of Calderon's air before it was over.
Ehren found himself smiling. Then someone was moving him. He smelled the pungent aroma of a gargant. People talked, but he paid them little attention. He was too tired. He thought to himself that if he went to sleep, he might die.
Then again, as tired as he felt, if death was like sleep, how bad could it be?
Chapter 37~38
Chapter 37
Amara watched the vord's first assault go up in flames.
It had all worked more or less according to plan. When the firecrafters had lit the oil-lined little tunnels, the flame had rapidly spread down them, out to a distance of about half a mile, creating a steady source of flame. Black smoke had begun oozing up through the air holes.
Then, when the concealed High Lords sent a vast gale of wind sweeping across the plain, they had exploded. The ground erupted with fire and gouts of shattered coal in long lines spaced about twenty yards apart. Oil had splattered everywhere, along with the coal, and within moments the whole plain had been devoured by fire.
Beside her, Bernard peered through the sightcrafting she held between her outstretched hands. He grunted with satisfaction. "Tavi did this at the Elinarch, only backward," he told High Lord Riva.
"How's that?" Riva asked.
"At the Elinarch," Amara said, to spare her husband's jaw, "he heated the paving stones first, to drive assaulting Canim off them and into the town's buildings. Then he set the buildings on fire."
Riva stared out at the plain of fire before them and shuddered. "Ruthless."
"Indeed," Amara said.
"The boy finishes what he begins," Bernard said. His mouth quirked up at one corner. "His Highness, the boy."
Riva turned to look at the two of them thoughtfully, frowning. "Do you think he's really on the way?"
"Said he was," Bernard said.
"But he has so few men."
Bernard snorted. "Boy didn't have anyone but an unarmed slave with him when he stopped the Marat at Second Calderon." He turned to face Riva and met his eyes. "He says he's coming to fight, believe him."
Lord Riva stared back at Bernard, his eyes thoughtful. Out on the plain, the fires had begun to die down - leaving half a mile of red-hot coals underfoot. The air over the plain wavered madly in the heat. Burning vord chitin smelled utterly hideous, she noted. There was a dull roar of windstreams overhead as the High Lords, their task completed, returned to friendly lines.
"Bernard," Amara said quietly.
Her husband glanced out at the plain and nodded. He turned to Giraldi, and said, "Sound the retreat. We fall back to the next wall."
Giraldi saluted and passed the order along to the trumpeter. Soon, the signal was echoing up and down the length of the wall. Centurions began barking orders. Men began to withdraw down the stairs leading from the walls and form into their units. Marat gargants had rolled up a few moments before, their long, slow steps covering ground rapidly. The wounded were being loaded onto beasts whose saddlecloths had been prepared to carry hurt men safely.
"Count Calderon," Riva said, his voice becoming somewhat stilted and formal, "I realize that our relationship has been... a distant one. And that you have doubtless already worked very hard to prepare the valley's defenses. Nonetheless, I should like to volunteer my skills and those of my engineers to do whatever we can to help."
Bernard eyed him again.
"I'm not a very good soldier, Your Excellency," Riva said. "But I know about building. And some of the finest architects and engineers in the Realm ply their trade in my city."
Bernard glanced at Amara, who smiled very faintly and pretended to be watching for the enemy.
"Be honored, Your Grace," Bernard said. "Giraldi, here, will show you to Pentius Pluvus. He's kept books and schedules for us on this project. He'll know where you and your folks can help the most."
Riva offered Bernard his hand. They clasped forearms briefly, and Riva smiled. "Good luck to you, Count."
Bernard answered him with small, sad smile. "To all of us."
Riva and Giraldi departed. Bernard gave orders to the rest of the command staff to begin the retreat to the tower. Amara moved to stand beside her husband and twined her fingers with his. Bernard stared out at the fields of glowing coals. Grass fires had begun at the edges of the burning coal, where the heat had leached the water from the land nearby.